La Dolce Vita
by her name is erika
Summary: Florence was a lifetime ago. / Or, in which what Victoria Newman finds herself torn between her wants and her needs. [Victoria-centric]
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

She walked back into the house, fresh off of dropping the kids at school – it was therapeutic for Victoria, quite honestly, and their chatter filling the space of the car energized her more than coffee could. Victoria kissed her children goodbye, and watched as they went off in their separate classrooms and into another world. Reed was eighteen and an adult, figuring out his place in the world as he still chased his musical dreams and actively worked towards it. Johnny was getting taller, getting smarter and getting to develop a sense of what it meant to be nice and considerate to others. He was a social butterfly and more than once, his teacher would call her and inform of her that son was a sweet, kind boy who with a fair share of admirers.

Katie was changing every day, like a flower in bloom. She was developing her own mind, her way of seeing the world and when asked about her opinion on anything, she was ready with an answer. She even developed a habit of observation and deliberation before making any major 5-year-old decisions. She was whimsical, imaginative, danced around the house, wore her fairy wings around the house and was the only one, besides Nick, with a love for all things sports-related. Especially the Milwaukee Bucks and Green Bay Packers.

Children were much direct than adults and did not understand the complex relationships of this Newman family of hers, or any of the Abbotts. They didn't understand what it meant to be with someone so long, and love then so intensely, it could be a dream and in the end, you woke up screaming from a nightmare. Children loved the unpredictable twists of a roller coaster but someone like her, was left emotionally drained, nauseous and physically spent after the longest time. But no. Not Johnny and Katie. Johnny liked his visits with Traci, thought Jack was cool and her mother was the prettiest grandma in the world. Katie loved spending time with Summer, loved going on spa trips with Abby and when she had figured out who gave her a gorgeously crafted music box as a birthday gift, Uncle Adam had her gratitude forever and they were friends now.

Johnny, Katie, Christian, Connor… all of them formed a bond as cousins that made her father happy as she watched him in the stables, watching them play. _Moments like this make stepping down at Newman Enterprises worth it. I built this family just for this. The children understand it. _They had somehow managed to evade the messes of their parents. Johnny, who protected Christian from mean kids because her nephew was shy and small. Katie and Connor, who fought each other but really had affection for each other, and made each other laugh. The boys who were sweet to Katie because she was a girl and being nice to girls was important and the right thing to do.

Victoria sighed, as she closed the door behind her and put her keys in her coat pocket. She needed an important Newman file for work. There was an acquisition in play, but the more she analyzed it, the more she became unsure of it being one Newman Enterprises wanted to take on. Sure, McLaren Manufacturing was a bleeding entity, still being nurtured by the Newman safety net, but this company was a liability she felt would infect other healthy parts. It was no fun having to cut out the rot, but she felt Newman would be better for it. Cut it loose and re-distribute that money into other parts of the company.

Victoria shuffled papers around, looking for that folder with the colour coded post-its nearly bursting from it. Having Adam around Newman wasn't so bad when he behaved – and well, Adam-proof blackmail did not hurt in her back pocket either especially when he had something to lose now – as long as he stayed out of her way and didn't go out of her way to irritate her more than usual. Newman was busy, a madhouse of calls and negotiations that had more in the boardroom more than the actual CEO office. Stakeholders had to remain happy. Board members had to remain satisfied and she had to leave the office every day, feeling like she had made substantial headway. Newman was her safe haven.

Maybe her day planner was in her home office. Things were more organized there anyway. Actually, her home office was the one place in the house, filled with files organized in alphabetical order, an organization board of different colour sticky notes in a code only she could understand. Her home office was the one place that didn't have Victoria feeling as if she was in a pressure cooker. She had accepted the things that irritated her about Billy because she didn't want to change him, and contrary to whatever version of her lived in his headspace, she did not want to. Things had tipped over and started simmering. It was just a matter of which of them would trip the switch before the inevitable boom.

Victoria exhaled, unable to locate her file of documents and colour coded notes and was about to head upstairs to the room office when she felt her iPhone 11 vibrate with a call. She glanced at it, phone encased in a new deep lavender case, and rolled her eyes.

"Not now, Adam."

"Well, good morning to you, sis."

Victoria moved to head upstairs to her home office. "Look, I'm having an erratic morning. Make it quick," she said, going up the stairs in quick steps and walking past the rooms to her home office at the end of the hall. The one room directly across from the guest room. _Someone was going to sleep in there soon_, Victoria thought bleakly and then pushed it from her mind.

"I have your notes on the McLaren deal. It made for interesting reading."

"You're psychotic."

"And I forgot how much I like messing with you," Adam replied, and she could hear him let up. "Relax. Like I wanted to touch it after the Post-It bomb went off in there. I just dropped Connor off. Let's get breakfast at the Club, and hammer this out before the meeting."

Victoria reached up, rubbing the tension out of her shoulder.

Yeah, she needed another cup of coffee immediately.

"Why? So, you could poison me?" Victoria replied, feeling herself bristle the way it did when anything Adam was involved. She took a calming breath, the same breath she used to dissipate anger and get rid of anxiety. She spoke again, evenly. "It's a force of habit, Adam. It'll take a while. Katie asked me to be nice to you. I'll be there."

She hung up, put her phone away and combed her hair back with a hand. Adam had her notes which meant she had his – a folder of chicken scratch that made her go blind from notes in the margins in the contract drafts, musings and analysis, different coloured arrowed that pointed this way and that. Like a chess match unspooling with no clear winner, but these were just hypotheticals. She had to be at the Club in 30 minutes to make this deal concrete.

Victoria scanned her organized desk, looking for a leather bound dark purple planner that went from January 2020 to December 2020. On the front was a simple monogrammed_ V _in silver. It was just stationery, but she loved this planner Reed had bought for her. He had pre-written all the days he was sure to come back into town _so you don't go nuts missing me because I'll always run home to my mom, _he wrote and slid a silver guitar pick in the pages. She opened the second middle drawer and was relieved to find that this hadn't been with Adam or anyone else for that matter.

She quickly flipped to today's date, smiled in anticipation because it had been so long since she had a social outing with women who liked her and had things in common, aside from the fact that Reed had been friends with their children since childhood. It was rare to continue friendships long after the 2018 graduating class of Genoa City had become certified adults. Victoria had been re-acquainted with their families and they hers, and they had been there for her when she needed to cry, rant or even escape the memories of her domestic abuse. Their kids had been at her house and Reed had three other houses he could go to anytime. At times, she and these three women had spent more of their time at the meeting room with their kids looking criminal as teenagers tended to for one reason or the other. In the moment, Victoria's blood pressure rose, but in hindsight, it was the source of many laughs. These women had given her a sense of normalcy and made her think maybe, she wasn't as friendless as she had come to believe. Victoria wouldn't miss tonight for anything.

—

"Yes," she smiled, phone pressed to her ear. "Let me know when lunch works for you, Summer. That sounds perfect. Bye, honey."

She hung up, slid her phone in her bag with her day planner and hitched her bag over a shoulder when she was stopped mid-step by Billy coming in. He was happy, excited about something but she had to go and would be happy to hear all about it later. It wasn't that she was brushing him aside, and she prayed to not flinch when he touched her, but she needed to be at Newman right now. She needed to be where things made complete sense to her, where she was respected and seen as an equal and had nothing to do with her personal life.

Nevertheless, as he did when he was brimming over with a child's excitement, he acted before he spoke. Billy greeted with one kiss, a second one and then a third one that made her smile. She couldn't help it.

"What was that for?"

"Guess who just scored a position that is totally me?" he asked, rhetorically. With a grin, he pointed to himself with both thumbs. "This guy right here…" he continued, explaining pulling off his gloves. "Like I thought it was too good to be true and then it wasn't. His assistant gave me a tour of the place and the building from the outside is incredible. It's like this tall black shiny tower and my office space is twice the size of Jabot. Beautiful view… The CEO wanted to speak with me personally."

"Well, I'm happy for you," she said, genuinely and meant it. It was the safest thing she could say to him with a smile that she hoped reached her eyes. She didn't know what she was doing agreeing to do this again. Victoria had agreed to work through the Amanda situation that put her in a madness that, in truth, had her about to sell this house. She was so sure she'd figure it out, moving into a new home in a gated community in a good neighbourhood and child-friendly. She couldn't be here. Not in this house where every good memory had a bad one to compliment it. Victoria would take the Newman jet, see Reed, and explain things to him as best as she could. He would understand. He had been given his distance. If he had question, she would be completely honest with him.

Reed was managing his academics at the Berkley School of Music in Boston, and being creative with original music with surprising efficiency and time management. Reed's music had been so good that it begun to generate in an underground music environment she, herself, was getting acquainted with. It had gotten Devon's attention and she had promised him she'd bring it up to Reed when she saw him in Telluride. Things were good and steady and seeing him in Telluride had been like getting to know, and loving, this happier man while still loving the little boy in her heart. There was a freedom in Reed and he was happier. More realist than pessimist. Optimism was optional. Watching Reed at a show, whether it was an acoustic intimate one and the music festival here or there, was an opportunity to see her son develop and be in his natural element. People respected him and she could see it was earned. People respected her, knew her acumen and her name all over the world, and she had her community of close people. To truly be free, Victoria found herself wanting it more and more.

All she had to do was call the real estate agent and just talk. Not to actively browse, actively put in an offer or entertain others. Just talk about her options. Victoria even put in in the back of her mind to talk to Izzy, her best friend partly because they had musically inclined children who were collaborators and two other kids who were the kiddie definition of dating, about what her legal options were. Just to examine the pros and cons, what her rights were and what variables were in play. That's it.

Though she felt hollow with nothing to give and as though another part of her had died and gone dark, her children were older now. They were perceptive, could pick up on tension and one night, Johnny, snuggled up next to her looked up at her with a sadness and apprehension and made her want to cry herself. _Mommy, I don't want to move. I love my house. Daddy's really sorry he hurt your feelings. _She merely looked at him, embraced him and whispered _okay, but I'm sorry I scared you too, baby _against his blond head of hair and held him. So, with Johnny's fear of change, Katie retreating into her room because she was scared to lose it and Reed's room with its bright red door would be gone, Victoria agreed to couples therapy and maintained going to her therapy while Billy made an effort to find a new one for himself.

She kissed him and moved past him when he caught her gently by the waist.

"Billy, I have to go."

"I know, but I was just hoping you knew the CEO."

Victoria stared at him, oddly, "Why would I know him? You've been CEO before. You know carrying the title of CEO doesn't grant you access to this exclusive secret club, right? _Well, not if you were female, _she thought, resisting the urge of roll her eyes. The ceiling wasn't glass for women in the business world. It was unbreakable steel. "I'm not appraised on every business mogul that happens to pop up."

"I only asked because he was based out of Italy, and you stayed there for two years."

"Yes. For Art History and a change of scenery I needed at the time, not for business. Besides, Ashley is in charge of Jabot's European offices. You'd have better luck with your sister than me."

"If I gave you his name, would it ring a bell?"

"No," Victoria sighed. "It wouldn't."

"Vick. Humor me."

"Okay," she acquiesced, relenting. She could never say no when his eyes became brown puppy ones. It reminded her of a female pitbull she had bonded with for about three weeks at the local animal shelter.

Pepper. Because she was an ash gray and medium sized, so waiting four years to find a forever home. Victoria never saw instances of sadness or aggression. She walked with a bouncy gait, loved to play and was so affectionate, Victoria could not understand why this dog hadn't been adopted yet. She would have herself but years after losing Dash and then Keeley, unexpectedly to cancer that became too far gone for it to be treatable, Victoria wasn't ready for a new dog. She believed that after Delia had died, the grief of grief had been so powerful, it affected Keeley but never verbalized. When the shelter called her, Victoria was happy to celebrate Pepper finally finding a place in the world and a home. Pepper recognized her and bounced over to her, floppy ears and all, and gave her excited kisses with her tail wagging. Victoria understood it come from a place of gratitude. _Oh, you're so welcome. I'm so happy for you, sweet girl. Yes. Who's the best girl ever? You're going to be so loved, Pepper. _Pitbulls were branded as dangerous, rough and deemed damaged goods. Unable to be loved and shoved to the bottom of the canine totem. If she could see Pepper was happy dog with a lot of love to go. Surely, Billy with all his flaws, was worthy of seeing what could be done with the rubble. If something _was_ salvageable.

"What's his name?"

"Uh, Lorenzo Mancini."

She was thrown into warm walks along the beach. Long conversations as a Tuscan breeze ruffled her long sundress and tossed his usually styled hair around. Museum adventures in a land of renaissance as she herself became reborn. Days and nights that blurred together and the concept of time did not matter because she was in a potent cloud of his intensity. Days where in a comfortable relationship that became mutual, trading art and philosophy. Victoria finding a kindred spirit in a city one could get lost in. There were nights spent in bed, wine long gone and clothes long discarded. Victoria painted herself in a world of watercolour to remember when the Arno sparkled with a layer of diamonds, and she had lazy days with him in bed. She recalled sketching him with his complexes, shades of grey, intricate lines and a soul that contradicted himself. Lorenzo Mancini. An intriguing name to match the man and one she wasn't sure she had spoken out loud until she heard it herself.

"I…may know _of_ him," Lorenzo Mancini. _Enzo._ A white lie, but a lie of omission nonetheless. It stunned Victoria how easily it came to her, how her face and body language invested in it until it became the truth. Because in a way, it was. Florence with him was several years ago. A far-flung chapter in her life she hadn't closed, but liked to look through fondly, like a scrapbook. It wasn't in line with who was and what her life was like now. She shrugged. "I'm sorry. The name isn't coming to me."

"Oh," he simply said, and suggested dinner. "We can order in with the kids. Then, celebrate alone when they go to bed. I just had a really good session with Dr. Richards and this job… Vick, I'm genuinely feeling great right now and _want_ to share it with you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too." Some part of her did. It was a battle every day to push the parts that felt dark, angry and poisonous. It was hard to not look at Billy and feel an acidity in her blood, and painful corrosiveness that made her want to scream and destroy him and everything attached to him. But it was even harder to let go of drunken nights on a Jamaican beach with welcoming strangers, days at the arcade that left her laughing so much she couldn't breathe and wedding vows on a front lawn of people who had varying degrees of disapproval. In the end, as terrifying as it was, getting arrested hadn't managed to break her because she had done it and married the man she loved. _Love is patient. Love is kind. Love covers many wrongs, _she recalled Judge Anderson's voice. She softened and nodded. "Okay. Dinner sounds nice."

"And you know what will be even nicer? Streaming all of Father Knows Best tonight."

"Wait. Tonight? I can't do tonight, Billy. I have dinner with friends at the Grand Phoenix," she smiled, genuinely but apologetically. "I've been looking forward to this for weeks. I'm sorry."

"Great," he dropped her hands, looking hurt. "Another girl's night where I become Enemy Number One. I'm always Enemy Number One," he frowned, "and if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were getting me back."

She laughed almost out of disbelief. "Getting you…back? For what?"

"For Amanda and every other time I've ever messed up and hurt you," he exhaled, and spoke clearly, looking her in the eyes. "It feels like I'm paying for everything I've ever put you through with interest, Victoria."

Victoria folded her arms. "Billy…"

"Look, I messed up. You're sick of hearing it. I'm tired of saying it, but it's the truth. It was nothing more than friendship and I had today's session to unpack all of that. I'm sure now, it wasn't going to anywhere. Not like Kelly. Nothing like Phyllis. I'm not okay. I don't know if I'll ever be… but I'm trying. All I want is a night with you to go back to basics. You know, get back to what made us truly us before it got lost."

"It will take more than a night to get back there if it's possible. We can't play arcade games, or get drunk on a Jamaican beach. We're not the same people. I'm not saying I don't want this," she gestured between them. "I'm simply saying that for us to be able to move on as a couple, we have to figure out who we are as people… as parents. Nick and I lived in this never ending cycle of our parents getting back together and splitting apart… I won't speak for Nick, but I know that it brought a sort of disorder into my life that was most likely here as an adult. I won't have that for Johnny and Katie," and then added. "Or, Reed for the matter."

"Do we tell Johnny and Katie we love each other as much we love them?"

She touched his face and kissed him before breaking apart. "Of course," she said, quietly. God, Victoria was really trying and so was he. Logically, she knew this. She saw how he was at home, saw how he respected her enough to talk to her and see of Amanda, and did so well with his therapy he had come back from one session with a mindfulness journal. She never asked about it and its contents until Billy felt like sharing. _Your thoughts and feelings are yours, Billy. Everything you write in those pages belong to you and I will respect that. I will do my best to listen with all of the non-judgment in the world, and respectfully ask questions if I don't understand._ Victoria had understood there was this darker side that rested in the corners of his psyche. She had spoken with him, had a whole conversation with him and in the end, come to the conclusion that this part _was_ Billy. It needed to share space in his consciousness and it wasn't okay to be banished into the shadows. Nobody liked to be shoved aside and made to be valueless and made to be problematic. It hurt. Victoria felt this sting firsthand, hot and caustic, and therapy was like a calming salve on the wounds on her head and heart. "Johnny and Katie's parents love each other."

"So, I can't steal you away at all."

Victoria shook her head, "No. But how about we compromise? I get to have my girl's night this evening at the Grand Phoenix while you hang with the kids tonight," she placed his hands on his broad shoulders and he looped his arms around her waist, "and on the weekend, we go to the Winter Fair with the kids."

"Deal."

He kissed her and let her go and was headed out the door when Billy's phone slightly startled them both. "Probably Traci or Jack," he went into his jacket and his face changed. She caught a glimpse of the lit screen and went to leave. She had a meeting and her day wouldn't ease up much after that. Billy reassured her. She wasted enough time here. "Hey, it's not important. I'll let it go to voicemail."

"Victoria…"

"Listen. Take it. You're allowed to have friends. You're not shackled to me. and I'm sure she'd be happy to hear about your upcoming interview," she said, with an air of resignation and understanding that it was one step forward, and several steps back. It was a complicated dance, but it wasn't a hard one when it was a choreography engrained into her mind. At least, there _were_ steps, right?

"We were okay just now. Don't leave like this."

"We still are okay. I have a meeting. I'm not mad, okay? Amanda Sinclair is stranger to me. It's foolish to give a stranger that _much_ power…or any at all," she answered, and didn't mean to sound as cold as she did. _A defense mechanism, _her mother had said. _You're like your father that way. You shut down when you're in pain but please don't suffer in silence, sweetheart. _Victoria calmly took a breath to stop the tell-tale signs of feelings that rushed up to the surface. She valued honesty with her emotions and her feelings and tried to do that more often, but there was a time and place. Now wasn't it. Who knew when that was? Maybe she'd find a time and space and write it down. "Good luck with your interview, Billy."

She leaned in to kiss Billy, and decided to press her lips to his cheek. She situated her bag on her shoulder, opened the front door and stepped into the cool January air. The door closed shut behind her. Victoria stopped and stood on the front steps of her house. Billy's silver car remained parked next to the black BMW hybrid she traded in her silver minivan for.

She walked down the driveway, got into her car and started it with a press of a button. For a brief moment, Victoria met Billy's eyes from the window of the house before she went into her bag and slid her Burberry Cat Eye sunglasses over her eyes to shield them from the sun. She slipped on her seatbelt, reversed slowly out of her driveway and pulled away from Orchard Ave.

—

Victoria found herself driving away from her present, unsure and foreign to her. She was headed toward a past she thought was long closed when she left Florence with the ghosts of the Renaissance, grand architecture, and art that left her in such awe.

For a moment in time that left her trapped in this place of what she knew and what she was unsure of knowing, Victoria was driving a past, wrapped in an enigma, locked away in a Pandora's Box. As she got closer to the Athletic Club, Victoria realized with vivid clarity, she was headed toward a collision that left her questioning all of the blurred lines men like Billy Abbott and Lorenzo Mancini would present in a life already complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

Billy had messed up.

No, he sprayed gasoline over what relationship – this beautiful familiar thing that always made sense, felt right and still did – lit a match and thought the flames would not land anywhere combustible. If he did, he could put it out. But it did and the flames grew bigger than he could manage. Victoria had burned up with unusual kind of rage he had never seen her exhibit. It was painful and she yelled more than she cried. She swore at him more than she spoke. He yelled back nothing had happened and he would have never did something to her or their family. Billy would remember the cold way she looked at him, her blue eyes sharp and piercing and how controlled she sounded when the dust settled. He had pleaded with her to understand, even admitted that yes, it was wrong to lie about the bar and the receipt and who Amanda Sinclair was to him, but he was sure he wasn't damaged. He was perfectly in control and didn't need to fix himself. Victoria stopped and in that controlled tone with the tears finally welling up in her eyes, nearly hissed, "If you cannot understand why I feel absolutely disrespected, then you are more selfish than thought possible. You're sleeping alone tonight," she said finally, and strode away without looking back.

When she had come home from Nick's house at just after four fifteen the morning after the earthquake, Billy looked at her flushed skin, the exhausted way she slogged herself through the door before closing it shut, mindful that the kids were asleep. She asked if the kids were okay and still asleep. They were. He decided to be brave and ask how she was and gently touch her face. She shot him a look that could have killed a vibrant bouquet of long-stemmed red roses if he were holding them. Victoria looked at him for a brief moment with an unreadable look on her face. For the first time since he'd known her, Billy wasn't able to decipher what she saying with a glance. Those beautiful clear blue eyes that had shone with love for him had been replaced with those of an impersonal stranger. Victoria got to the first step before he looked at her, eyes pleading. He was tired, but he didn't care. He just needed to know that their book – the one with the endgame ending – was still okay even though it wasn't intact.

It could have been torn, bent, worn at the spine, even damaged and frayed from the wear from their tumultuous history. Billy really couldn't handle the story being gone.

"Victoria?"

She brushed his hand away from her and it stung and frustrated him. The wall Victoria had built around herself so not even he could not break through it, was worse.

"Billy, I'm tired. I'm going to go check on my children," Victoria explained coldly, and continued to climb up the stairs. She stopped and looked at him, slightly softening. "I know you're sorry. I am too."

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

She stared at him for a moment in silence and then cleared her throat. "It's not important, I suppose. I'm going to check on Johnny and Katie. Excuse me."

She continued walking up the stairs until she disappeared.

—

Billy was a gambler by nature, a lover of risk and adrenaline. He loved the spontaneity and the possibility of things that could happen. Whatever happened, happened. He would go with the flow and enjoy the moment. Analyzing complicated things and overthinking all of the variables made Billy's anxiety steadily rise. That's why he had found it easier to talk to Amanda, a woman who knew nothing about him as opposed to something like Victoria, Jack, or someone like Traci, who could glance at him and see everything. It wasn't the judgement he feared because Billy knew their support and unconditional love was there and he'd be a fool to take that for granted.

Amanda had nothing of Hilary's except her face and even that didn't throw him. Jack had an exact doppelgänger trapped within the walls of a dank, dirty Peruvian prison. Not even that phased him. With as many people as the Earth had living on it, there had be one man with the same face as him even though Billy was sure he would never meet him. The darkness inside of him was bigger than Delia's death, larger than any hatred he carried for Adam and larger than any guilt or shame he felt. It wasn't about a psychotic break when Billy lost time and he was scared of lost time.

He was broken and flawed, feeling like a square peg being shoved into a circular hole. He felt like a hypocrite promising to protect Johnny and Katie from monsters underneath their beds. A fraud they called a hero when Billy had nightmares of his mistakes outweighed the good he tried to do. His dreams started as his children loving as they did and ended with them as adults, raised by Victor and loathing him. So, he knew what he had to do. He hated therapy because they always looked at him as they had a diagnosis and he was expected to agree.

Billy had been nervous and anxious up until the day he was met and had his first session with Dr. Richards. He was super laid back and left the therapy sessions in Billy's hands. He was nervous until a guy with a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled back, blue jeans and Chuck Taylors walked over and introduced himself in the empty waiting room. "Hi," he held out a hand with an easy smile. "Dr. Brent Richards."

Billy shook his hand but was unsure if he was even in the right place. Was this one elaborate karmic joke to punish him for punishing him for actually trying to get better? Was there was a camera crew in hiding to really expose for being a terrible human being?

"Billy Abbott. Am I in the right…?"

"Yes. You're in the right place," he nodded, inclining his head to the door at the end of the waiting room. "Follow me."

Billy felt as though this therapist might be the one to understand things. The first thing Dr. Richards did when he followed him into his office was give him the choice of where he wanted to sit. Dr. Richards had no notepad, no pen to take notes – just the doctor offering him a coffee while Dr. Richards himself drank tea from a Best Daddy Ever mug. _New father? _Billy ventured to ask. The other man nodded, a weary laugh but his face lit up. _Ah. Yes. Twins – which is why I'm dressed like this. Oh, and I don't ever take notes in sessions. I have something called hyperthymesia, meaning I've vividly recalled everything in my life since the age of three. _

Billy was happy and motivated to go to his sessions. Once a week for one hour. Dr. Richards was the kind of guy to not only remember what was said, but to ask him questions that didn't make him feel foolish or wrong. Dr. Richards took the time to remember his questions out loud, his frustrations, and his fears. Victoria continued to see Dr. Mosley and after they talked about it, they went twice a month.

Katie and Johnny deserved a father and Victoria needed a partner who could be there. All he needed was find healthy ways to cope with the urge he had crawl out of his skin. This morning had been good. Things had been getting back to whatever qualified as normal. He would never understand why Victoria was working with Adam at Newman. He would never understand why his daughter decided that a music box made Adam a decent person in her eyes. But Billy probably understood the non-judgmental gaze of a child and feared the day Johnny and Katie would not look at him like he hung the moon. He would like to let the entire solar system fall from his hands and shatter the Milky Way if he was left with it.

Katie and Johnny could not look at him in the future the way their mother did now.

The first step was getting through this interview tomorrow, getting back the trust he broke. He was sure that Victoria's heart would be right behind. First, he needed to find out who Lorenzo Mancini was. He watched Victoria's car pull away until she was gone. When she was, Billy went over to his coat splayed over the back of the desk chair and retrieved his phone. He inhaled, seeing the missed call and then got to his contacts.

Billy tapped a number and steeled himself for her voice on the other end.

"Hey, yeah… it's me. Can we meet? It's important." A pause. "Okay, I'll be at Society in five."

—

Her day at Newman was the usual aside from the fact that she'd spent the better part of her morning in the boardroom with McLaren Manufacturing representatives, Adam, and both sides firing terms and counter terms. Until they had been one thing that would save Newman Enterprises – what she wanted – and make the company more money, what Adam wanted. Selfishly, a part of her felt in control and powerful, going back to the corporate chess match. It was strategy and skills, guts and glory. As she began to realize all over again, Billy was right. Going back to basics was important. She was going back to the person she was and found it was easier to cause bloodshed for the greater good. Was war a good thing, absolutely not? Was it necessary? Always.

"Maeve wants this to be as easy and painless as possible."

Victoria smiled cordially as possible from her position across the table, steel in her eyes, "Glad that's the sentiment. I couldn't agree more."

"So," Adam continued, after her and wrote down something on a piece of paper, "here's a number," he smiled the way he did before ruining someone's life. "Generous if you ask me, although steep for you."

"Steep is a relative term, Mr. Lundgren."

Mr. Lundgren's eyes flicked between her and Adam. His mouth was pressed into a thin line and stared at the folded piece of paper on the table in front of him before he glared and opened it. Victoria watched Mr. Lundgren's eyebrows shoot up as Adam discreetly nudged her. This man was Maeve's right hand man, and Victoria did respect her as a woman in business. It was a sisterhood and in some odd way, it was unspoken that they stick together. But Maeve McLaren was flighty and preferred the accolades of leadership without putting in the proper work required. Her father had known Graham McLaren, who was a respectable, kind man. When McLaren was on a downward slope, there had been a deal to keep it safe under the Newman umbrella but it had been turned parasitic in nature.

Mr. Lundgren chuckled, face going ashen white and ripped the piece of paper in half and then quarters.

"Something wrong?"

"I came here in good faith to come to some sense of _compromise_, but it is impossible with _you_ Newmans!" he raged. "I told Graham to pull out of this… this… arrangement when Victor advised us of his semi-retirement but he died confident that you would not do this!"

Adam turned to her. "Imagine that. Poor judgment right to the end, huh?"

"I've never seen it either," Victoria says, playing along and then dropped the façade. She couldn't believe she was doing this and…enjoying it. She was doing it to destroy every man who had hurt her, dismissed her, demean her, broke her and told her she couldn't rebuild and that she was nothing about Victor Newman's daughter. She was throwing daggers at the people who judged her without knowing her and others who had condemned her as a burden and an annoyance when they did know her to be so much more. She sat up straight in the high backed chair. "But here's the thing: all this was a trap," she gestured around the air around her. "If you paid any attention, you'd realize this is beyond good faith. An elaborate cover. That monetary offer was never in play. While you've all been here begging Newman Enterprises not to cut you loose, you've all been decapitated. My brother and I have already bought the entire company and as we speak, it's being torn apart," she smiled, charmingly. "Now, Mr. McLaren's departing wishes to stay with Newman have truly been honoured."

"Well, except the part where you all have no jobs, and Maeve has no company to run."

"Unfortunate, of course – but this deal is outdated and no longer serves Newman's interests."

Mr. Lundgren and the McLaren representatives buzzed in a collective panic. One of the legal representatives she knew well, Annette McFarlane, quieted down the noise. She stared at both Adam and Victoria with a hazel eyed glower that she easily could match. Adam teased her, "Years of corporate law training out the window, huh?"

"We will contest this."

"And we'll be happy to take more of your money. Annette, please. I'm sure you can see reason."

Soraya, Newman Enterprises lead counsel, went into a company folder and retrieved a contract and concisely explained that the purchase of McLaren Manufacturing was indeed legitimate after Gary McLaren, Graham's brother, as de facto CEO and Maeve as the face, sold it far too eagerly. All three parties had signed to it, agreed to the conditions outlined and it was legally notarized.

Adam knew Gary McLaren from his Vegas days. Adam wrote discreetly on another piece of paper. _Sad broke rich man who needs more_. She had mouthed _how_ without any sound. Adam wrote _got caught in a spider's web._ So, Soraya finished succinctly, this company was now the property of Newman Enterprises. She slid it across the table to Annette, who quickly grabbed it and flipped the pages. She scanned the pages and turned to Mr. Lundgren with a glance and a barely perceptible shake of her head.

Adam cleared his throat and stood, "As much as I would love to watch the impending meltdown, I have things to do and a new toy to play with," he turned to her. "Victoria."

"Adam."

Adam shot her a discrete glance as if he knew something she did not, but she couldn't be bothered to decipher the upside down, warped place that was Adam's mind. Part of her saw the greyed edges of it but never wanted to venture into the abyss. He sauntered out the door of the boardroom and was left to face the wrath of now unemployed McLaren executives. She stood, the picture of composure and calm and cleared her throat, "I believe, ladies and gentlemen, as Adam put it, I'm going to request that you all leave. The meeting is adjourned."

Mr. Lundgren stood, looking her in the eye. "This was not a meeting," he intoned, face pale with anger and shock. "This was an ambush."

Victoria rolled her eyes, tired of his dramatics and strode over to the door. She opened it and stood aside, giving them space to walk through it, through the executive floor where the elevators were. Begrudgingly, they stood and all filed out. Annette walked out past her, her black pumps clicking down the hall.

Mr. Lundgren pinned her with a grey-eyed glance, looked her up and down and smirked at her, mockingly. "Oh, Victoria," he marvelled. "You think you've won something, haven't you? Let me tell you something. You have not. You are not fit to lead this company anywhere, but to failure."

She remained unfazed. Victoria had stopped listening to the doubters, the nay-sayers and the ones who said her credibility in this world of men only mattered because of her father's name. It didn't. Business was in her blood. She knew she was destined for power, her own prestige and it was time to stop being afraid to embrace everything it had to give her. It was time to be powerful – and more than anything – own that power without thinking in the back of her mind what others would say or think. She had silenced the quiet dark voices who questioned her place and her abilities connected to a place that had been engrained in her being. Whether it was at Newman or a company of her very own, Victoria knew her talent was bigger than Newman Enterprises but this place was home. Keeping the family legacy alive, thriving and making the name Newman evoke not only respect, but fear if need be. Nobody, at home or in business, would disrespect her ever and she'd eviscerate anyone who tried. She noticed something flicker in Mr. Lundgren's eyes that planted a very plausible theory in her mind. The more she observed this man, the less of a theory this became.

She folded her arms. "You know what, _Stanley_? I've heard things like this from men like you my entire life. I'm not in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. Too damn bad. Do you think you faze me and threaten me? I think I'm a threat to you," she noticed his navy coloured tie was askew and straightened just so. Victoria resisted the urge to choke him with it before she continued, patting his chest hard enough to elicit a grimace of pain from him. "I think _any_ woman threatens you. Guess what? I'm CEO now and will continue to be. I will not tolerate you, or _anyone_ speaking to me that way. You have bigger problems with Maeve when you are exposed for the rat you are," she said, as she laughed to herself. "So," she took a step towards him, tone dangerously low, "take your disgusting chauvinism out of Newman Enterprises before I have security carrying you out in a body bag."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a clear warning. In the time you've been here, you've taken personal shots at everyone here from me, to Adam, to my legal team, the other executives all the way down to maintenance, and I've had enough! I will not hesitate to act on it if you're not out my building immediately."

"Whatever you think you know about McLaren is all supposition," he said. "You know nothing."

"We'll see about that. Give Maeve my regards."

He walked toward the elevator, anger and a bit of fear in his body. The double doors opened, and then they closed with Stanley Lundgren, carrying him down into oblivion. Prison, or hell… it didn't matter.

—

She exhaled, and walked toward the elevators that would take upwards to the shelter of the executive floor. Victoria closed her eyes and when she tried to conjure up memories of Billy and all the ways and moments he had made her happy, all she saw in her mind's eye were her children as newborns. Victoria couldn't find him. The Irish themed airport was becoming a strange place to her and the woman who had drunkenly done the limbo on a Jamaican beach didn't feel as if they had been the same person. Who was the 1950s bride standing on her front lawn promising of forever and always to a man perceived as the enemy? When did the woman in red reciting words of kismet decide to leave? Usually, this would have had her striving to figure out why and understand what was happening. She didn't because she loved him. When you loved someone, you had to let them be and breathe, build relationships with people that didn't sometimes include you. Human nature wanted her to be hurt when Amanda had called this morning. She admitted things were shifting back into something that like them and it wasn't.

Therapy was useful in that it had given her tools to manage her feelings and be honest with them. Be more honest with others and allow herself to lean into her emotions. Be kind to herself. Remembering the Serenity Prayer her mother lived by to guard her sobriety, Victoria realized in that moment that she couldn't change Billy and Amanda's friendship. She had to accept it while staying far away from it to protect herself. She reminded her that she had the courage to change what she could, and she would be wise to know that there was a profound difference in the way she related to Billy even though he did not see it, or refused to.

Right now, this had been a success. Everything had gone to plan. Adam had worked with her instead of against her. It was odd while Nick called it insanity, but knew not to question it or her. Newman had a surplus of money coming in from McLaren's demise and whatever could be salvaged from the sale which was still worth at all. McLaren was worth more dead than alive and really, it was just one more company out of the way. Today was a win and she liked more of those and being rewarded for it.

—

Victoria greeted her assistant, Lucy, and asked for any calls that she had received while occupied. Lucy was bubbly and provided a sort of comic relief around here that cut through the tension. However, she was efficient in her job and made sense of her appointments, meetings and other non-work engagements. Lucy was a willowy, freckle face and her dark purple hair stood out in a sea of professionally dressed people. She was quirky and dressed in bright colours while she did smartly. She did not know how one could make soft pink and black polka dotted skinny jeans, cream coloured blouse and a silver sequinned blazer work, but she did it. Plus, her ankle boots were cute.

"Uh, no," Lucy answered, drinking tea from a large rainbow tinted cup, accompanied with a straw. Sweet tea, Victoria remembered. So, she always left tea bags of it in the break room for her. Lucy twirled a pen once between her fingers, her nails painted an electric blue. "Nick called. Tune in at 7pm. He has a huge announcement. Press conference huge."

"About what?"

Lucy shrugged, "He didn't say."

"Ugh," Victoria rubbed her head, a tension headache beginning to form. She had plans, really important, exciting plans that she needed. People in her life told her she was an ice bitch, a witch with her own broomstick planted so far up, fun was a foreign concept. Those comments stopped being offensive to her and she let it, like many things, not affected her. She only did this because if acted on every dark impulse she had, she would have been in jail or wrapped up in a straitjacket somewhere in Fairview. "He knows I have my evening at my sister's hotel this evening, right?"

"Yes. He said and I quote…wait…" she said, unrolling the sleeve of her blazer. Victoria knew Lucy had a habit of writing things on her arms when there wasn't a Post-It around. "'I won't take no for an answer, Vick'… and unquote."

"Tell my brother I'll be tuning in," Victoria agreed. She may have had an inkling. "And if what I think it is, let him know I'm Team Nick always."

"Okay."

Victoria observed her assistant and knew that while she was vibrant and talked a mile a minute, and liked to do handstands against the wall to think, according to her, something was wrong. It wasn't Victoria's place to question it but she had affection for Lucy, and come to see her just as she saw Hannah: a family member. When Katie and Johnny visited her at work, it was Lucy who kept her days afloat and her children entertained. Lucy simply went back to typing away on her work computer, pausing to take sips of her sweet tea.

"I'm sorry if I overstep," she asked, carefully. "I just wanted to check in with you. Not you, as the best executive assistant I've ever had," she smiled, softly, "but you, one of the best people to bring colour and light-heartedness here in a while."

Lucy stopped typing and turned shiny green eyes on her. She sniffled, quietly.

"Oh, wow. This is embarrassing. Crying because your boss compliments you and gives a damn," she sarcastically chided herself. She exhaled, waving a hand in front of her face to keep her makeup intact. "I'm just touched. That's all. If I feeling something, you'll be the first to know. Promise. So, um, I'm going to get back to it."

"You know my door's always open."

"I know. Seriously. Go. Do CEO-like things."

"Fine. When you say it like that…" she playfully saluted Lucy as Lucy usually did her and walked to her office to handle what the afternoon would bring her.

Victoria heard the clicking-clacking of Lucy's quick fingers tapping the computer keys. She opened the door to her office about to close it when she caught tears forming in Lucy's green eyes. She whipped it away, shook her head, told herself to get a grip and continued working as if nothing had happened. When Victoria finally did close the door shut, she rested her head against it, saddened that she had been right. Lucy was going through something painful and carrying it alone. As much as Victoria wanted to help, she was realizing that sometimes, it wasn't her place to know and even Lucy did confide in her, it wouldn't have been her place to find a solution. It was best to be hands-off.

Victoria resolved to be exactly that: hands-off enough so that she gave Lucy the space to figure things out for the sake of respect, but she also resolved to stay close. If Lucy needed an ear, a shoulder or silence, Victoria would be happy to offer that too.

—

"Something's bugging me," Adam said in the elevator at the end of the business day. Victoria tossed him a sideways glance.

"Would you mind _not_ telling me?"

"It's almost as if you enjoyed that meeting a little too much," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. He chuckled, shaking his head. He looks at her as if staring at her through new eyes. A new person. Maybe in some ways, it was she who was evolving and didn't need to stop it. Yes, she liked to partake more Pinot Noir and kept more of it next to Billy's favourite whiskey. And yes, pristine and proper Victoria Newman dabbled in and out of a smoking habit she'd picked up in boarding school. She had stopped when she got home and hadn't thought about the urge to have a cigarette.

Then she got to Florence and everything changed. She changed, developed multicoloured the wings of _la farfalla_, the keen eye and sensibilities of an artist and a bottomless sense of adventure that drove her to unbridled passion and love, she couldn't describe adequately entirely if asked. She had come back from Florence and lost _him. _Then she lost her niece and watched her brother lose a piece of his soul that, to the day, remained buried with Cassie.

She knew what smoking did, medically. Knew it caused cancer. Knew it could kill her. But there was that selfish part of her that wanted to alleviate the pressure that always came back when her happy world crumbled and her sense of stability had disappeared. Her failed marriage with Brad. When her marriage to JT collapsed. Every time Billy dragged into hell after she saw heaven with him.

Here she saw going to therapy, re-building her home and relationship with Billy and Victoria wasn't sure what the foundation was anymore. He expected her to wake up and forgive. She expected that for herself and the familiar pressure was back. She felt it so acutely she had driven to a variety store after a therapy session with Dr. Mosley and brought a pack of Belmonts. Victoria remembered vividly, ripping open the carton. She remembered pulling a cigarette and putting it between her lips, flicking the lighter and when the tip flamed orange, taking a drag that hit her like a slow morphine drip. She had felt relaxed in that moment, clear headed with the dropping wind chill of winter.

Just because she had developed her own method for Adam – which was madness, itself – that didn't mean she didn't have the urge to rip his face off, stab him with her letter opener or even crawl out of her own skin. Luckily, she had a Vegas minted blade swinging at his throat.

"What?"

"You're not above being just as shitty as the rest of us."

"I haven't graduated to ruining lives, attempting to murder a parent, and a framing my sister for it," she snapped. "All I did was make a business decision. It was a smart one. Why hold onto something that's been dead anyway? Their throat was exposed. All I did was slit it from ear-to-ear. I don't care. So, leave me alone. We managed not to kill each other. Don't test me. We may be related but we're not the same."

Adam stared at her pensively and then let the shadow of a smirk rest on his lips.

He put his hands up in surrender. "Hey, no judgment from me. I always thought you were a formidable opponent, and knew you were an ice queen. But to see you so cold-blooded up close…" he trailed off. The elevator doors opened when they landed in the parking garage. It was sparse with Lucy's bright red car and a couple of the employees from the security division and Joey, from IT. "I'm actually impressed. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Lucky for me, your opinion outside of the office doesn't matter."

Victoria forced a smile, the need to go off to where she indulged in a cigarette presented itself. There was a window of time and she would meet Billy and the kids, ask about their days and of course, check in with Billy because it was the right thing to do and because she loved him. Then she would go off to the Grand Phoenix to let her hair down and be a sane person for a fraction of time.

"Ouch," he feigned being wounded. "I guess, I have one thing left to say then."

"Goodbye? Please let it be goodbye."

"Welcome to Dark Side, Victoria. Maybe you and I aren't so different after all," he said, smugly and walked towards his car. Victoria glanced at her brother's retreating form before she shrugs his comment off and gets in her car. She sets her bag and purse in the backseat. _Maybe you and I aren't so different after all. _She put on her seatbelt, pushed the start button as the engine came to life. Victoria adjusted her rear view mirror, counted to five backwards aware of what was in her glove compartment and then drove while the tendrils of edginess settled deeply in her bones. _Not now, Victoria. Not now. _

—

Billy could have had coffee after answering Amanda's call and having a hard conversation about where they stood. But he needed to address it now. For closure, Maybe? To outside eyes, it read like an affair. He understood that but he could have sworn on Delia's soul, it was nothing like that. Billy could have sworn on the lives of his surviving children, Amanda wasn't on his mind in terms of women to cheat on Victoria with. He emphasized this to Victoria, but it was like she had shut down and determined to be as detached as possible. _You want me to be hands-off from now on? Congratulations, wish granted!_ Amanda was attractive and smart, was logical and was objective because she didn't know him as well as Victoria. She couldn't look at him and tell anything was wrong with him. She could offer sound advice and knew what he needed to ear but she didn't have the ability to strip bare and see the wounds – a mix of healed over ones and newer, raw ones – and want to heal them. Victoria exposed him when Amanda kept her distance even when she was close. Didn't Billy get the right to determine what needed repair on his own terms?

Amanda, proactive as she was, proposed a clean break and well, how could he fight that? Her life was complicated and she was trying to build a quieter one than in Madison. Oh, he knew how complicated it was and it took courage. Just like it had taken courage for Victoria to expose her abuse to everyone in the courtroom. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen in on the screen and felt sick, more than angry. Amanda was brave to get away from something this horrendous and it gave Billy an understanding how why Victoria was passionate in her work with domestic abuse victims. She would come home and tell him how she had implemented an exit plan for this family and secured pro bono representation for that young woman with nothing but the bare essentials, or get a safe exit plan for the young mother with three small children. She had quietly paid that woman's rental expenses for a whole year while Samantha was motivated enough to get a job – any job that made her self-sufficient. Billy remembered the day she had advocated for Lucy to be hired when Nathan had departed from Newman Enterprises due a move to California because he saw how much Victoria had grown to care for her. When he met Lucy herself, it was hard not to like her for her off-beat quirkiness, friendly deposition when the streets had fashioned her to be rough around the edges, and her sharp wit. Katie and Johnny excited when they got to see her didn't hurt. Victoria's eyes would light up and he would listen, proud of her. Any woman who had the balls to leave a relationship meant to break her had his respect.

Lines were blurring even though it wasn't as black and white as a full-blown affair. He had lied to Sharon when there was no need for it if he was truly sure. Amanda confessed that he was helping her make friends and trust others, but she didn't need Victoria Newman, or the full protective force of her father, targeted at her. He needed to figure out what was happening at home, understand where he stood in the configuration of his home and what he and Victoria were to each other. She hadn't mean to, she admitted, but she knew what it was like to navigate the sudden switches in a relationship.

"Victoria and I are good. I mean, it was touch and go for a bit, but we're fine."

Amanda smiled softly and stood up from the table. It was like losing a friend you made at camp all summer and knowing come the end, the friendship would fall away for no reason at all. Billy experienced this when boarding school when, realizing this in adulthood, he wasn't true friends with no one. He just happened to be in the same rigid environment with other boys just as bored by the classes and Latin lessons as he was.

"Good," she said, with a nod. "I'd wish you well, but I don't need to."

"Because I'll bounce back from the mess I created around me?"

"You're under the assumption that there's a mess to begin with," Amanda replied. "You have an interview tomorrow. That's a positive. It seems some of your good luck has rubbed off."

"Oh?"

"I have an interview with a new law firm. It'll be nice to actively work on a case, even though my own firm is still the plan. But I miss the courtroom," her face became thoughtful and then she snapped her fingers when she recalled the firm name. _Fuentes & Marshall. _That was Izzy's firm. Despite being part of Victoria's group of girlfriends, she was the one with the least Anti-Billy sentiments.

Eleanor Sterling, Wisconsin's first lady, was the textbook of sociopath and wondered how someone as well rounded as Steph came from her. He was reminded that she was intimidating underneath the quiet and remember when Steph expertly kicked a customer's legs from underneath her so forcefully, the woman had collapsed in a heap. She had taken the last two chocolate chip cookies. _If these kids don't get cookies, neither do you. _She did a hop over the customer she just put on the floor while others rushed to help, bought a box of chocolate cupcakes, put them in his arms and looked at him with the threat of imminent danger if he didn't listen. _For the little people. Not you._

Last he heard from Reed, he was dating her and then they weren't but sort of still were. In any case, Billy understood how this girl of very few words had the same terrifying spark her mom did. She was closest thing to a shadow. Not seen, but somehow always there until college took her to Harvard. Steph Sterling did not have the kind of danger that left Billy crashing his motorcycle or losing large in a game. But the actual danger that guaranteed death and you couldn't cheat it. He just understood why she was her mother's daughter. Eleanor did not care what happened to him but the woman managed to carve out warmth where Reed, Johnny and Katie. She was sure the First Lady of Wisconsin would tie him to a stake and light the match if Victoria asked her to.

Detective Dorothea Campbell – or Thea – was Victoria's longest friend because Lou and Reed had known each other since they were eight. Reed was the godfather to her granddaughter and she shared his birthday. Victoria and Thea were always together even Izzy and Eleanor weren't. Billy was sure Victoria had confided things to her that he didn't know. Thea wasn't one to bash him behind his back when she got pleasure from doing it to his face and actively tried to set Victoria up with a guy who wouldn't resent her for giving a damn. How was it that Thea was able to show compassion to JT when he was nowhere near that but Thea never tried to get to know him? _I was married to your type and that man did nothing right but give me two babies. You'll land in a ditch and Victoria will get tired of try to pull you out. Tells me everything I need to know. I can't wait for her to see you. A parasitic, gaslighting piece of shit. _

Usually, Victoria reprimanded her but Thea remained stubborn. _Anyone who pukes and then go back to it hurts themselves. But I trust your judgment, girl. _

Izzy was fair, was a dangerous lawyer as opposition, and one of the best to in your legal corner. She was Victoria's personal attorney, and appealed to her logic and sense. Izzy was less likely to clap him with a lawsuit of some kind when Victoria was the one to dangle on the ledge and be impulsive. Izzy had inherited it when her mentor retired and had her older brother, Hector, come in and make it a family business. It was fairly new and Amanda would be a good fit, he thought.

Amanda genuinely wished him well. He did the same and he had let her go. Or, the clean break had been mutually decided. Amanda knew where and who she was going to land because Izzy was an open book. He knew her through Victoria, but she was even keeled, soft spoken and her husband was a stand-up guy. There was that feeling he got in his gut: the one where he sat a poker table and would know the difference between a bluff and psychological warfare, or the kind of gut feeling that had him chasing a lead not knowing how the story could break.

Amanda Sinclair had walked away and Billy had to have another session with Dr. Richards on how to reconcile the loss of a woman who had given him perspective with the woman who had given him love, life, happiness and a place to land when he did get out of control. Now, that objectivity was out of his life and his safe place had become somewhat precarious.

There was something else he needed to do. He downed the rest of his drink for a little liquid courage even though he didn't know what he was preparing for.

Flipping through his contacts for her wasn't that much of a stretch.

Billy tapped her number once and it rang once, twice, three times before she answered, voice soft with sleep. Of course, the time difference in Paris.

"Billy?"

"Hey, Ash – it's me. Did I wake you?"

She yawned lightly. "Yes," she answered, honestly and continued, warmly. "But you're my brother so I don't care too much. You're not Jack, as much as I love our big brother," she spoke with an exasperation he knew all too well. Jack wasn't irritating, or judgmental and really, he did try to listen to him when he wasn't in the throes of all things Jabot, but he was the same as Victoria. He knew Billy too well and it was hard for Billy to bend the truth, especially if Jack didn't understand that it was _his _reality. He already saw the quiet alarm in Jack's blue eyes, the resolve that he was an Abbott. _What did being an Abbott even mean?_ Ashley was easier and the distance between Genoa City and Paris helped. "So, what's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing. I'm calling because I need a favour."

"Okay. I'm tired but intrigued. What kind of favour?"

"The kind where you tell me everything you know about someone named Lorenzo Mancini because I have an interview with him tomorrow. He's legit, but Ash… my gut is telling me to look into him," he disclosed. "I mean, I questioned Victoria, but she asked me to call you. I know the guy is based in Italy and his family is one of the richest in Europe. Maybe even the world."

Ashley sighed, "Let me see… Well, you're right that the Mancini fortune carries all of weight in Europe, and has a lot of sway. I do know that Mancini International wasn't much when his father was running it but Lorenzo has the Midas Touch. After his father died, I believe around early 2005…" she trailed off guessing. "He threw himself into the family behemoth and made it the massive behemoth it is now. His mother died about early 2011 and based on what I know, he retreated to Omfori, the family's private island in Greece. His great-grandfather purchased it for cheap and added real estate and shipping stakes. Are you sure Victoria said she didn't know him?"

Billy nodded, "She told me she knew _of_ him."

"Odd," Ashley said that faraway tone when the wheels in her head were turning. She was longer sleepy, but curious. "I just think it's odd considering the fact that the Mancini family has had thousand-year roots in Italy and well, his mother is descended from the most powerful families in Italy in its own right," Ashley told him. "The Medici family."

"Who are they?"

"Powerfully wealthy banking family who spread all over Europe. Especially during the Renaissance period."

Renaissance. The word struck him and he flashed back to a few art pieces at home from that period. An art piece from Leonardo Da Vinci hung on the same wall as Reed's high school diploma in her office. A book on the life and art of Donatello stayed shelved on the bookshelf by the door. When Billy went on a date – to get back to basics, as if resetting their relationship – with her, she surprised him with one to a gallery opening in a part of downtown Genoa City he had never been before. She was equal parts partner and tour guide, explaining what piece this was and who Donatello was. He found himself staring at one painting. A man tied to a column with his face froze in suffering. Arrows seemed to pierce his body from every possible direction. Was he waiting patiently to live, figuring how to breathe or praying to die? Victoria came beside up and followed him and recognized it. _Ah, that's St. Sebastian of Venice. See that inscription in Latin there? On the bottom, _she pointed. He did. _It translates to 'Nothing is stable if not divine. The rest is smoke.'_

Life was fleeting. What you thought you thought was familiar today, could be different and disappear like smoke.

"Victoria loves the Renaissance."

"Billy, the Medici name exploded in Florence during that time. Florence was their domain for centuries until most of the direct line died off, but not the whole family, of course. That's why I find it weird that Victoria and Lorenzo never crossed paths ever."

"Wait… Florence?"

"Yes. It's historical fact."

"How do you know all this?"

"We met in Milan last year. We went to dinner once and he's tall, dark and handsome, but he wanted nothing to do with My Beauty or Jabot Cosmetics. He's a gentleman but he's very, um… closed off emotionally. He told me he lost something and it was painful, so his heart is not open to people, but my company was appreciated. I mean, losing both parents, majority of your extended relatives, being an only child. He's very powerful, charming, but I got the sense that didn't let many people get too close. He's very good at being detached. He's transparent in business dealings. Nothing underhanded, so you won't be screwed over there," Ashley explained, and then warned slightly. "However, I suggest you watch your back with him with non-business related things. What I do know is that he has his eye on something, he's going to get it by any means necessary, but congratulations," Ashley said and he heard the warmth in her voice. "All I've wanted is for you to be fulfilled and good to yourself. I have nothing but faith in you. When I make the trip back to Genoa City, we're celebrating. You, me, Jack, and Traci."

"Or… you three can celebrate in my honour?"

"You're coming. The four of us are getting dressed, going out, having a damn good time _and_ having dinner together. That's an order, not a request."

Billy needed to process what Ashley had told him and honestly, it was overwhelming. Italy was shaped like a boot, not as big of a country relative to the United States. He promised her he'd think about it. The idea of reconnecting with his siblings terrified him, not because they would stop loving him because Billy knew the bridges were building hanging on. Victoria's voice and that St. Sebastian painting imprinted on his mind. _The rest is smoke. _He said goodbye to his sister, allowing her to get back to sleep while wondering how he was going to some sleep of his own tonight.

Ashley had his gratitude for providing him with context, but still it was information overload. Billy dropped his phone on the table with a light throw and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Information from Victoria's past intertwined with his future while Billy wasn't sure of what the present was. She never spoke of Florence, just like he never spoke of Hong Kong because why rattle dusty skeletons and wake up old ghosts?

But was he waking up old ghosts when the woman he loved and wanted to share everything with him slowly became one? What was he supposed to do when Victoria was the one who liked to travel into her head and stay there?

How did the hell was he supposed to get to the locks attached to her heart and her mind when she gave him no clue to open it? He didn't know but he knew where to start. Billy picked up the phone and dialled her number.

_You've reached Victoria Newman. Leave me a message. _

"Hey, I'm on my way to get the kids, but meet me at home. I know you have your girl's night, but we have to talk. It can't wait."

—

A sharply dressed man descended down the staircase of his newly acquired Italian style mansion. It had been constructed in the 18th century and left as desolate with time, dust and memories of old but he had restored it to a grand home. He stared out of the high window of the first storey living room. This was one of many rooms. This living room for quiet time in the evening. His eyes scanned the skyline and a smile touched his lips as he nursed a crystal tumbler of bourbon imported from the northern Italy. The aromas triggered a memory, several that imprinted on his mind and remained etched in his soul. Exquisite, one-of-a-kind paintings of her resided in the spaces in his heart. Her smell of lavender and honeysuckle. Her skin soft underneath his fingertips. Her soft curves and the hardness of her unbreakable spirit. There was a light in her eyes, the colour of both sky and sea and just enough darkness for her to be otherworldly with shadows and cold steel in her eyes.

The staff of his house where seen more than they were heard. He did not like the idea of widening his already close inner circle because the higher chance there was of betrayal. Control was not always a bad thing. Anyone who worked for him was free to come and go as they wished, but they could never betray him. Not even if they could bear the price. He gazed out at his courtyard with the green grass with a light sheen of frost, the Genoa City winter dimming its full potential. He would restore to its full beauty when the rest of the world awoke in the spring time.

The tapping of heels against the floor behind him. He spoke in conversational Italian, saving the terms of endearment just for her. He was no monk, of course, and lived a different path for hers but he never forgot her. He even wished her well. In his darkest moments, he cursed the man with her heart and the privilege to have her children.

"Is it done?"

Valentina, with her honey blonde hair cut in a bob just brushing her shoulder, sharp hazel eyes that reminded him of a cat strode her over in slow strides. "Yes," she replied, took the remainder of his bourbon and drank it. She smirked, amusement in her eyes. He was more than his assistant, but a little less than a lover. Although he did sleep with her when they were both willing. He did it out of necessity – to remind himself that he was capable of feeling even if it was on a carnal level. He never allowed himself to go beneath the surface. She slept with him out of him out of stress relief. Well, he was happy to aid her. Valentina never saw him as a potential mate, and thankfully, it was mutual. Just his platonic equal. His eyes and ears. "You have a situation now. We need Mr. Abbott for a division suited to his talents, no?"

"What is your first impression?"

Valentina paused in thought. "He's unrefined. Unfiltered. Rough, but a well of untapped creativity," she assessed with a slow nod. "He's a valuable asset. However, it begs the question… what does you wish to accomplish? Mr. Abbott is an asset, yes, but he's a liability," she narrowed her eyes and switched over to English, punctuated by a proper British accent. "He's a gambler. You despise gamblers. You think they're fools so why is one this close to your company?"

"How long have you known me?"

Valentina frowned and sighed. "Long enough to know you know what you are doing, I suppose," she glanced away and stared at him, curiously. "You've arrived at this small midtown place where Mancini International has no North American market as of yet. We could have launched anywhere, and yet we build here. What is the endgame?"

"I don't have an endgame."

"Liar," she rebutted, laughing. "You have multiple."

He chuckled, and strode by her to one of the many closets in his foyer. A grand chandelier of diamonds and sapphire in the middle of the ceiling and twinkled like stars. He flicked on the light and retrieved a practical black coat built for Wisconsin winters and shrugged it on. He went into the pockets and slipped on black leather gloves.

"Tell me," he inquired of Valentina, wrapping a plaid scarf loosely around his neck, "the Grand Phoenix. Is it as the reviews say?"

Valentina tapped a rose pink painted nail against the crystal surface of the glass.

"I wouldn't know. I'm headed out to rest in my new penthouse apartment," she revealed with a smile and set the crystal tumbler by the glass decanter on the side table, made of marble. She shrugged. "I might as well see what Genoa City has to offer. Tomorrow will be…eventful."

Valentina walked by him through the foyer, calling out, "_Buona notta!_" over a shoulder. The tapping of her heels grew more distant until his door closed shot. Lorenzo Mancini grabbed his car keys, electing to drive himself to the Grand Phoenix Hotel. It would be an exercise in patience and observation.

Like most things, Valentina was right in that tomorrow would be eventful and yes, it would be a goodnight, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Confession was good for the soul. At least that was the expression.

However, Victoria thought good old-fashioned retail therapy did the trick. Victoria would have gone to Fenmore's but with them being intertwined Jabot Cosmetics, she elected not to. Something about avoiding crossing enemy lines and taking a short breather from all things Abbott-related and Abbott adjacent on the corporate front. It was nice to bounce around from one high end shop to the other in a mall setting. She went from one shop, one vintage boutique to the next until she was sure she was satisfied. Victoria had left with new pieces for her closet, a new manicure, complete with nails painted an opaque black named Nocturne.

Gone were the light brown – sometimes blonde depending on what way the light hit it – lowlights and her natural dark brown hair had returned. It was almost black but the stylist was right. It worked with the cool and warm tones underneath her skin and made her blue eyes truly stand out. She stood in the mirror for a few moments and realized her hair had been the same for so long, this new look was shocking to her. But it was her natural hair colour.

It was _her_. She ran her fingers through her darkened hair once. It felt right.

She left the mall feeling good about it with nothing and no one about to ruin her mood. Even if there was, Victoria was learning to prioritize: focus on that right now, and deal with the rest later. Billy had called her and left her a voicemail while her memories lingered like a stubborn phantom in the dark. Both men needed to leave her alone and understand what she was being kind to herself. Victoria was always the strong one, always the one who had to look after others. She stepped out into the parking lot as a new woman.

It was a new decade after all, and 2020: the number people said hindsight equated to.

—

Victoria walked through her front door and dropped her shopping bags, put her coat in the hallway closet and then then took her black pumps. She let out a relieved sigh, the ache in her feet alleviating just a little. It was a little after 5 in the evening, the sun starting to set but unusually warm for January. It was still cold, of course, but it was bearable. It was the weather for skating outdoors or perfect weather for a morning ride on the trail with Buck. Buck was a large black stallion, stubborn in temperament and rebellious. He was terrifying and dangerous at first glance, but all he needed was patience and someone to be gentle with him. With time, he had gained her trust and she became the only one who could ride him. It was as if this large animal had understood her with a touch or with a squeeze of her heels and a tug on the reins. He had bonded with sweet Elle and soon, they were a pair. This year, Elle was pregnant with a foal on the way. Victoria still rode Buck but she realized her horse was protective of her and the unborn foal and didn't want to want stray far from her.

She made a mental note to make time to get to the ranch and just spend time with him. Victoria did miss Buck, a lot.

"Billy!" she called with no response. She put her keys on the desk by the window and walked through the living room toward the kitchen. Victoria had received his call. They need to talk and it couldn't wait. Her stomach churned despite all of the ways she had put up a screen of nonchalance. "Johnny! Katie!" she called again. No response. She walked from the kitchen, and her eye caught a piece of paper from the corner of her eye and stopped. Victoria laughed to herself, recognizing the writing. A child's hand but written with good intentions. Victoria had suggested Johnny get into writing and reading things to sharpen his spelling and linguistics, so Billy had this fun hands-on approach of making Johnny write notes if he was going somewhere. It was Katie who retained quickly the house address, the Abbott house, the Ranch and Nick's and what the phone numbers of each person was just in case of emergencies. It was one of Johnny's notes, written in blue pen. "Dear Mommy, Daddy said we could have pizza. No candy, I promise and I'll brush my teeth. Katie, too. We'll be back soon. Love, Johnny, Daddy and Katie."

She folded the note and said in the silence. "I love you too, baby."

Victoria walked over, put the folded note in the drawer and closed it shut. Glancing at the wall clock beside the bookshelf near the door, it read 5:20. It was time to get ready for her evening and whatever announcement of Nick's warranted a press conference. So, she scooped up her shopping, a bit giddy that she got to dress up. As she headed the stairs, the heaviness of the day fell on her like that of a heavy mantle. Victoria was happy to take something as simple as a shower. Sure, she was Queen, but even queens needed quiet time before kingdom demands came at her, loud and infinite.

—

The water fell on her like a steady rain, droplets running down various parts of her body. Victoria relished in the way the jets hit the tension filled parts of her shoulders and undid the tangled knots in her back. The sweet scent of lavender body wash filled the air, the steam clouding up the glass. Victoria lightly scrubbed at her skin and took some strange comfort in knowing that the soapy water was being carried away into some sewer-based unknown. She closed her eyes, running her hands through her hair and it turned black when wet. Flashes of his hand in hers while they strolled along the length of Italian beach. That time she had dragged him to as many churches as possible even though she wasn't particularly religious for the art and the history. For no reason at all, Enzo had twirled around gracefully even though she didn't dance, but she had danced. Victoria had danced with no music around them. Just the intricate art of Michelangelo at the Sistine Chapel and the air smelling like newly burned incense. They had danced in the holiest of Florence and painted its underbelly with only sins she knew herself to be capable of. Things with Enzo were effortless in that she fought with him, and he got just as passionate but somewhere between war and concession – never defeat because they were far too stubborn to admit it – there have been love. Even if the moments where she wanted nothing but him, craved him and had given herself to him in return, Enzo had loved her.

She had thought of him, of course. But she had moved on and expected him to do the same.

In the warmth of her shower, Victoria shivered hearing the deep tone of his voice and that name only reserved for her. The Italian and English disparity were irrelevant. In her mind, he could see his eyes shining with mirth, a knowing smirk of secrets and sweet nothings said between just them and no one else. _You are mine and I am yours. _

—

Even with the hiss of water hitting tile, Victoria was brought back to the present. Billy and the kids were home. Her family. She turned the taps off, grabbed a towel to wrap around her body and another smaller one to dry her hair. She wiped the steam away from the mirror to get a clear reflection in the mirror. She inhaled, a deep calming breath, telling herself she was minutes away from debauchery with the girls. Well, it was less debauchery and more celebrating her friend's engagement to a genuinely good man. Marriage, and the idea of weddings, left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth. Weddings felt fraudulent and not as permanent as advertised. There were select people in the world who stayed unmarried and lived in _perceived_ sin for decades. There were others who promised each other forever and till death do we part, and somehow made it work. She didn't know anymore how these things and something she was sure of become complicated.

In hindsight, Victoria thanked her internal alarms for warning her not to accept Billy's marriage proposal. As stunning as the ring in this little powder blue box was, the ring meant more than just one yes and another ring on her finger. It meant labels, expectations, and an understanding that loving Billy meant any incoming heartbreak would shatter her. She hadn't looked at him with the rose-coloured glasses of the past and the need to jump blindly. She had done the pros and cons, understood with time and experience what marriage entailed and realized she didn't want it. At the time, she wanted Billy but not the pressure. Still, she wanted Billy but wanted to stop the encroaching darkness. Victoria wrapped the sash of her dark purple robe around her waist when she was dry, her skin moisturized and her chosen outfit laid out on the bed. The others hung in the closet for tomorrow's office day like fashion related treasures to be opened under morning light.

Her hair was untamed and wild looking but freshly dried. Maybe if she quickly ran her hair through the straightener and brushed it once, her hair would fall bone straight. She gathered her hair up in a loose pony.

"Hmm," Victoria surveyed herself in the mirror and then frowned. "Maybe not."

She sighed, letting her hair fall naturally down around her shoulders and went into cupboard for her wireless straightener. Victoria turned the dial with her thumb, sat in front of her vanity and sectioned a lock of her hair. With a smooth downward motion, the bristles gave her hair shine and fixed the fly away hair hairs until it was as she wanted it. Ten minutes later, Victoria's hair was finished, straight, loose with a natural side part. Victoria was in the middle of putting on her new mini dress – a royal blue lace dress that was low cut and highlighted her curves nicely and showed off her legs. It was nice comfortable enough just in case she found herself on the dance floor, but wanted to wind down and catch up with her friends. Her makeup was complete, a little more than her everyday look but the night was young. A large part of her knew she was a spoken for woman, but a small part of her would not have mind if the smallest bit of male attention headed in her direction.

She opened her jewelry box for a silver cuff, her medium-sized silver hooped earrings and slipped a silver ring that wrapped three times around her middle finger. Her favourite piece because each wrap represented the number of children she was blessed to have and the three constants in her life. She didn't know how tonight was going to unfold but she was with friends and did not mind this kind of adventure.

Victoria found a black onyx necklace, the jewel dark and circular on a silver chain. It was a Christmas present from Izzy. _Onyx to transform and absorb negative energy so it doesn't drain you. Onyx makes you sharp at all times. _Izzy was a mother of four herself, a sweetheart and one of the best (read: most ruthless) lawyers she knew. Her friend was a chameleon: part avenger, part healer, part dancer and all sunshine. She envied Izzy's way of always being in a good mood. Victoria remembers Izzy merely shrugging and saying, _I'm only happy because I had to chase it so hard for years. That, and I get all my meanness out in the courtroom. I'm not all sunshine all time. My temper just isn't as hair triggered. I'm still Izzy from Brooklyn and she's not friendly at all. _

Victoria sprayed perfume on her wrists and the back of her ears. It was a new unreleased fragrance, one of the three on the way for Brash & Sassy called Seduce. Marissa had tested it out herself. It wasn't a pheromone-based fragrance but used with Estratetraenol, some kind of pheromone. It smelled of roses and jasmine under a citrus undertone. She smacked her lips together, adjusting her dark red lip gloss and stood up to find Billy leaning against the doorway.

"Oh, hey."

"Hey," Billy answered and took the necklace from her hands. "Here. Let me."

"Thank you," Victoria accepted his help as turned around, moving her hair to one side over her shoulder. Billy's hands knew what to do, how to help, and how to fix things when he wasn't using them to destroy them. It was cycle with their relationship, almost moving but one that stood still at the time. Despite being out in the cold, Billy's hands were warm against her skin and she felt her herself flush. When her necklace was secure, she turned around. "Thank you. Where are the kids?"

"Media room with bellies full of pizza and cookies, and a movie playing before the main event. Introducing them to the Andersons."

Father Knows Best, of course.

Victoria glanced at him slightly exasperated. "You fed them cookies on top of pizza?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how hard it will be to get them to bed?"

"Vick, I got this. Warm milk and at least…" he trailed off, counting before revealing he was holding up eight fingers. "…this many stories between them should do the trick. If all fails, I'll have Reed's Goodnight Song on standby."

Victoria relented, finally. It seemed where the kids were concerned, he knew what he was doing. Of course, he did. He was their father. Victoria saw shades of his bond with Delia in the way he interacted with his children—whether it was helping Johnny with his homework in some off-the-wall way she hadn't thought of and the way Billy was better at getting her ready for school in the morning and having daddy-daughter dances in the living room at night. She exhaled, pressed a light kiss to his cheek before she went to grab her clutch on the bed.

"Victoria," he said, seriously from behind her. Her full name. All four syllables. She recalled the voicemail, the way he sounded in between getting that skirt, that designer blazer and those boots with the six-inch heels. In any situation, she would have braced herself for the boom and heard the hissing the fuse in beats her racing heart. However, that was not the case. Victoria looked into his expression of deep thought, an undertone of frustration and questions in his eyes that were just on the tip of his tongue. "Remember when I said we needed to talk?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I do," she sat down on the bed, crossing her legs. Her stomach, in usual circumstances, would have dropped. She would have allowed the tiniest bit of panic to break through her hardened exterior.

These days Victoria found herself in the protective shell that made everything stark and factual with no room for interpretation and context. What she knew is that Johnny and Katie were in the media room. Billy had taken her suggestion to ask Ashley about Enzo. The wheels were turning in his mind and it had all circled back to her. Restless Style had collapsed, but Billy's journalistic instincts remained. She had loved that about him.

"Fine," she said, staring him in the eyes. "I know you have questions. Ask."

—

She looked gorgeous and remembered how sexy she could be without trying. As excited as he was to be home with the kids, he wished he was the one to dress up and have a night out. He missed the Empty Glass for its broken, run-down charm, the people that haunted the place because these guys had more to be worse off than off, right? When he was with Amanda and they weren't trading war stories, they played a game. Amanda would pick someone from afar and dare him to figure out what brought them there. It didn't matter if Billy was right or wrong. That wasn't the point. The point was escaping into the imagination and making himself feel better in relation to their target. The guy on his fifth beer had lost his house and separated from his wife. The woman with her knees up, huddling them to her chest and resting her shaved head against the wall had flunked out of college and ruined her life. She had let her family down and came to escape the disappointment in the eyes of those she loved most. That scenario was imaginary, but hit way too close to home. Amanda had sensed his shift from across the table. She looked apologetic and he had told her she did nothing wrong. It was his fault for thinking he could escape anywhere.

These days he found himself the one as ground as clear he could be when he didn't have an off-day or wasn't in the best of moods. Billy found himself in the middle of this dynamic where it was Victoria who escaped and he was the one, trying to keep it together. Granted the damage was his fault and he shouldered the blame, but she found reasons to not be home. When she was, it was business as usual and when there were moment Billy met her expectant gaze, deciding to play that game on more time. Spin imaginative scenarios of how they could end in a reality where Victoria hadn't put distance between them and locked her heart away. He was hoping to get some kind of reaction out of Victoria, elicit anything out of her. Even yell at him like she had the night he felt the need to confess. He hadn't done anything wrong, he was sure, but still he watched something in Victoria fracture – if it didn't break entirely.

Billy was trying, but he was starting to think it wasn't enough if he wouldn't give up on the relationship, Victoria would be the one too. Things were different in the way she interacted with him. When they had sex to reconnect as a couple, they were glimmers of them – who they were, and effortless it is – and other nights, Billy would wake up to find her gone. He'd check on the kids, obliviously asleep and then take quiet steps to find her working over something Newman related in her home. Other times when she disappeared, Billy found her sitting on the couch in the dark. She would stare into nothing and then realize where she was before she rested her head on her knees, small frame shaking with quiet sobs. He wanted to reach out and hold her, apologize for whatever pain she had been dealing with because of course, it was his fault. It had to be, right? That's what their relationship had been reduced to: a cycle of her trying to keep them together and him destroying it all. There was a laundry list of occurrences of wounds he had caused.

He never did go to her. Billy learned over time not to. It was like having sunburn. It burned the skin and stung, but when it was touched, it felt a thousand times worse.

Then there was the rare occasion where Billy felt as though they were both going to be hurt. Mutually assured emotional destruction. He found a way to rip her heart out so she reacted and crushed him under her stiletto shoes under there was nothing of him left.

He rubbed his face, Ashley's advice reverberating in his mind. This interview seemed for a dream position that was good as his weighed on him, but the possibility that Lorenzo Mancini was an Italian enigma to everyone to Victoria was something he couldn't shake. Concern flashed across her face and she grabbed his hands, gently pulling him down to sit beside her.

"I know I've been standoffish with you. I just do that because it's a lot. I'm not there yet, but please believe that I'm trying," she admitted.

"If you don't love me anymore, say so." He had thought it many times, but never verbalized it until now. There. Now, it was real and out there.

She blinked, surprised and stared at him with a furrowed brow. She let go of his hands and swore her breath. Yeah, that was another new thing. "Okay, one," she counted her index finger, "that's a bit of a leap—even for you," she counted her middle finger. "And you can't put the onus on me. I do love you. I don't know how many times and ways I can say it or how many ways I can show you. But I don't want to crowd you and frankly, I'm tired of justifying everything. I just went through it at work and I don't need it here with you. Ask me your Florence-related questions or we can table it."

"Do you know Lorenzo Mancini or know _of_ him? That's all I want to know."

Victoria studied him for a brief moment. She was back to looking at him as another person she felt to assess before it was safe. Billy hated that. Sure, he was a bull in a china shop but he wasn't hazardous. In Jamaica, he was absolutely drunk with her but it had been a sober truth. He wanted to marry her then and if she eventually loosened at her anti-marriage stance, Billy would have proposed with as many engagement rings possible. He loved her but he was at the end of his rope. What Victoria wasn't going to do was lie to him. For somebody so against deception, it would have been hypocritical. He met her piercing glance with a stubborn one of his one.

"I gather you followed my advice and called Ashley?"

"I did."

"What did Ashley tell you?"

Billy chuckled, and stood. "Does it matter? Either you know the guy or you don't. You were in Florence for two years. The guy is descended from the Medici family through his mom."

"And Catherine de Medici became the queen of France. Where is this leading?"

"I'll tell you. Florence is his turf, okay? Ash said he has actual family roots. You've told me everything there is to know about the place, it feels I've been there without ever hopping a plane. So, I did call Ashley. I find it weird that you're a well-known person and you two came across each other. I don't care if you know him or not. I don't care how well," he added, a little bit of a lie. He did care. But like he was learning from Dr. Richards, he had to pick one emotional battle at a time. Billy continued. "He lost his dad in '05," he said, the facts pouring out of him like a broken tap. He paced to quell this nervous energy and he was sure he looked crazy to her, but maybe not. "His mother died in 2011."

Victoria looked somber looking affected and he didn't know why. She fiddled with the elaborate ring on her finger and then sighed, more of an exhale. There was a flash of something in her eyes, something looking back at him and then it was gone. "That's awful. What month did his father die?"

"What does it matter?"

"Because obviously, you're implicating me in something."

"No, I'm not. Why are you getting defensive?"

"Why are you beating around the bush?" she shot back, just sharply. It was starting up again. The tension before one of them broke. Victoria touched her hair and for the first time, he noticed it was darker. The light parts of her hair were gone in half a day.

"April," he recalled upon further research from Google.

"His mother?"

"Summer 2011."

Victoria stood and laughed to herself. "Are you kidding me right now? You can't even interrogate me when the timeline doesn't add up. In April 2005, I was already here in Genoa City. You can thank your brother for that. I was minding my business when he knocked my door all the way on the other side of the world. There he was with that trademark smile ready to anger my father again, and offered me the CEO position at Jabot to compete with Nick. I couldn't go back to Florence because Cassie had died and whatever we were fighting over hadn't mattered. Nothing did when Nick and Sharon had to bury their child," she narrowed her eyes, looking at him pointedly. "You know more than anything how crippling that is. As for the summer 2011," Victoria recalled with a bitterness that didn't escape him. Just another memory she had held on to against him deep down. He deserved that. Leaving her like that after reconnecting like that after months of brokenness was one of most cowardly things he had done. Top 3 material for the William Foster Abbott Screw Reel material, for sure. "I couldn't possibly have gone to Florence. Not when my husband had left me alone with saying goodbye after we made love, left me and this house empty until Keeley was the only other living, breathing thing in this house and I…" he watched her eyes fill with tears and then whip them away. Losing that dog was one of the most damaging things to happen to both of them, but it touched Victoria on a deeper level than him. Keeley was such a good boy, the best boy. At the time, he was grieving Delia but maybe if he exited the cloud of his own pain, he would have seen how long it took her to put Keeley's toys and leash away.

She cleared her throat, her voice even. "I'll tell you this. Florence was a lifetime ago. I stand by what I told you this morning. If I did know him, it would be nobody's business but mine. I won't ask you about who you knew while building houses in Louisiana, surfing and bartending in Miami or doing who and what in Hong Kong because it's not my place. So," she grabbed her clutch, "you're going to extend me the same courtesy and understand Florence isn't yours."

"Victoria—"

"No! I'm done with this," she snapped, eyes dark and stormy with restrained anger. Maybe conviction. "It's none of your business what happened in Florence. You're going to have to live with it."

"What if I can't?"

"I can't tell you that. Not anymore. All I know is that I love you, but I'm going out. Please get them to bed when the Father Knows Best marathon is over."

Victoria turned on her heel and walked out, leaving him behind. This was frustrating and up went another layer of Victoria's wall. Billy felt the tugging in his mind and the tingling on his skin before it grew into a need to crawl out of it. Victoria was going out. _She's leaving to get the hell away from you._ But no, she was leaving to let her hair down. She needed this. She told him this and he believed it and her. Just like he had needed to retreat to where no one cared who he was or what he did, not a secret affair – real or imagined.

Billy wished he had told her she looked stunning, and that he was going to be the selfish bastard she called him in anger just to have her to himself tonight. He wanted to tell her that she was gorgeous even when furious, evading his very valid question and do not walk away. Instead, Billy said nothing and let himself sink onto his bed with nothing but his thoughts.

—

She did not know why this affected her. Enzo had been relegated to the outer edges of her life but Salvatore and Francesca's deaths six years apart – rather, the news of it – had struck her as she'd been slapped. She let herself walk herself walk away from the master bedroom and found herself resting her hand against the hallway bathroom door. She exhaled and let out a shaky breath.

Victoria remembered them as clearly as the focusing lens of a camera she had dusted off. She recalled the softness of Francesca's face as she were painting it on a canvas. Salvatore with his large-than-life personality, laughter that took over his whole body and the way in his quiet moments few and far between, had visions of the future and a ruthlessness that betrayed his positive disposition. He was so different from her own father whose whole empire and legacy was built on ruthlessness with some tenacity and grit. Salvatore Mancini was a man who could trace his past and had everything, while her dad had nothing. She had not known of Albert Miller until Nick told her, shaking his head. _I'd never seen Dad break like that afterward. Grouchy old man in a wheelchair and he scared me to death. Albert Miller was a bastard, Vick. Not the kind of grandfather that would have welcomed us warmly if we visited as kids_. When she visited, he welcomed her by quite literally sweeping her off her feet and pressing two kisses to her cheeks. Francesca was a small woman, beautiful in the way one would stare at a painting in a museum only for it to grab you. Francesca had a wisdom too big for her frame and when she spoke, Victoria couldn't help but listen. She wasn't into philosophy or religion, but still, she listened and happily obliged when Francesca insisted Victoria accompany her into town.

Francesca was the closest person to magic. They were so good to her and the reason her time in Florence had been so easy settle into. There was a large Medici-Mancini extended family she saw at its fullest. All these different personalities until less of them made appearances at the family compound and joined each other in their respective family crypts. Francesca's eyes were a dark shade of blue Victoria would never be able to accurately mix together with paints or coloured pencils, but she never forgot them. _Vittoria, _she spoke in Italian complete with the Italian iteration of her name, _what do you believe in? _Victoria remembered gaping at this woman or rather her question. They had walked to the Basilica of San Lorenzo. Victoria blushed and simply said she didn't know. Not when it had been drummed into her that it wasn't bad to have faith but recent events at that time, had made Victoria disillusioned. _I don't know_, she answered honestly.

Francesca smiled softly in a way that made Victoria miss her mother and kissed her hand before patting it twice. _Come with me_, Francesca said in a faraway tone, as if she weren't there. _It is as beautiful as the day I discovered I felt Lorenzo leaping inside of me_.

Enzo had his mother's powerful sense of introspection and his father's social graces and quiet ambition with deceiving ruthlessness. She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes, the sound of little feet headed in her direction. Her children were happy. They were happy to see her and hugging her around the waist. It was 2020, not 2004. In 2020, Victoria smiled back warmly, knelt to their level and hugged them just as tightly.

"Mommy, are you sad?" Katie had asked. Ah, her perceptive girl. Nothing could past her.

"Did you get my note?" Johnny asked, hopeful. "I'll write you another one if it makes you feel better."

Oh, her sweet boy who did everything in his power to make her smile, not realizing he had completed that task by just being in her life. It wasn't his job to worry about him, not the other way around. He was a child.

Victoria shook her head, and assured them. "No, I'm not sad. I'm happy. I'm so incredibly happy I have you two and Reed. The three of you make my heart happy and sometimes, that makes me cry but in a good day," Victoria said, firmly but gently. "You already make me feel better, okay? I love you," she hugged them, and pressed light kisses to their heads. She stood and grinned brightly. "Okay, your dad tells me you're about to watch the best show ever."

"Spongebob Squarepants?"

Katie threw her an exasperated glance, and Victoria had to bite back her laughter.

_5 going on 35_, _Vick_, Nick remarked with a laugh when he brought her daughter back to her, sleeping on her uncle's broad shoulder. Apparently, a winning 3-point buzzer beater from her favourite Bucks player, Giannis Antetokounmpo against the Lakers had won the game and tuckered her out. Factor in landing on the Kiss Cam with her uncle, a chorus of 'aww's' when a little girl decked out in the team's green and white – the Bucks jersey, green and white tutu, glittery sneakers from Aunt Abby, and a headband with plush deer antlers – pressed her lips to her uncle's cheek and all the unhealthy stadium food, had tuckered her out and caused her to crash. But Katie was happy.

Katie's Kiss Cam moment with Nick and facial expressions, emotional reactions throughout the game had put her daughter in a viral light that was wholly positive. Social media had made her child relatable to adulting, to a variety of moods and real-life scenarios.

_be disgusted with unnecessary shit in your life just as this little queen is disgusted with this bullshit call _

_i don't know this child's name but BIG QUEEN ENERGY. i stan. _

_I don't what this bb is going through, but same. WHEW FIX IT JESUS AND BUCKS. _

_YO THIS KID WINS. SHE DEADASS GOT BUCKS SWAG HERE ON AND ANTLERS I'M WEAK GO AWF, LITTLE MAMA _

_UM BUCKS ORGANIZATION GET THIS LITTLE GIRL HER FLOWERS. _

_why is she drinking this apple juice stressed like it's henny and the bills just finessed her pay check I swear that pain hits different asdsadfggkl _

_you guys, the kid at the bucks-lakers game with my dad that has all you in shambles is my little cousin, katie and yes, she is this hilarious ALL the time, _Summer wrote on her social media. _love her. _To which Kyle retweeted and replied, _I'm mad that i spit out my coffee. yes, this kid is also my cousin and yes, she's everything. _Even Reed had replied, _wow I gotta come home now. baby sis _with a heart emoji. It was one of the few times where Katie's natural courtside antics sent both Newmans and Abbotts in this period of happiness. It was a ceasefire of sorts, a tentative truce. There was a period where things felt normal, and the house felt warm. She found herself sliding back into a rhythm she thought she had lost with him and the internet found some other thing to make viral. Until one of them took a step the one perceived to be the wrong one. Sometimes, it was her. Sometimes, it was Billy. She couldn't speak for him, but she knew it was tedious and its worst, exhausting.

Victoria wanted to be the best person she could be and she was trying. Maybe she gave off the air of unattainable perfection but it had taken hard work. She didn't have time to collapse, retreat away into herself when she badly wanted to. Not when she had two young children who depended on her and an adult son who, despite carving out his own path and being self-reliant, needed her in his own way. To disconnect from her job as a mother was unacceptable.

All she wanted for Reed, Katie and Johnny to be fulfilled. To find their happiness. She wanted to find true joy for herself and despite how she felt, she wanted happiness for Billy. Victoria would never wish anything bad happen to him even though it was human to say he inflicted it on himself. Katie narrowed her eyes and sighed, "No, Johnny! Daddy said we're watching Father Knows Best today."

"Oh, yeah!" Johnny remembered. "But Spongebob Squarepants is still good."

"No, it isn't," she muttered, under her breath. Victoria noticed her daughter for all her ability to be naturally funny, have her own kind of sass and be – as her father called her – the ray of sunshine in his life, was developing a kind of mean streak. She made a mental note to address that. Had she picked on the tension and just said nothing? Was she learning to bottle things inside just as she had as a child? Victoria looked at her young daughter with slight admonishment but fairness.

"Katherine…"

She let out a little sigh. "Spongebob is okay."

Victoria knew Katie was stubborn and well, she would have to pick her battles. Perhaps, the Terrible Twos was in preparation for the Fearsome Fives.

Johnny let things roll of his back, easygoing and was used to his sister's mean moments. He protected her like any older sibling would, but he wasn't above retaliating. He had been so excited to see her and Father Knows Best, he didn't take Katie's mean comments toward him to heart. Victoria got up to her full height, Johnny staring up at her with expectant blue eyes.

"Mommy, is it true you and Daddy had a Father Knows Best wedding outside?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

A flash on that sunny September afternoon came and went in her mind. She forced a smile, trying to muster up the feelings of hope that had been so fresh back then. It had been tangible and the future seemed bright and possible. Little did she know the miscarriage of her and Billy's first child was the indication of one of many tragic moments to come in this house. To their children, it was a fairytale and one she would let them believe. Just until they were old enough to understand the reality – that a 1950s black-and-white comedy through the lens of sunny Americana wasn't real.

"Sure is, buddy." Billy's voice sounded from behind her. "Most swell lookin' gal on the block that day."

"Can I see your dress?" Katie asked.

"Yes. One day when we go closet diving, baby," she agreed, meeting Billy's eyes for a split second before redirecting the kids downstairs. "Hey," Victoria said, brightly. "Why don't you two go downstairs and get downstairs? When I come back, you can tell me all about Father Knows Best."

Johnny and Katie promised they would, and scurried down the hall and down the stairs until they were out of sight. She shouldn't have snapped at him. But there was something about Florence that was sacred to her. It had become her haven, her shelter and for anyone to ask about the intricate details of her time there was almost sacrilege. It was a breach of her memories, ones precious to her. She told people about Florence in surface terms, but never opened up enough to share that part of her life to anyone—not even Nick, who was her best friend. Of course, she had told him about Enzo because they had met before she knew she did, but never the deep stuff. She looked at Billy again and realized she had enough breaches to last her whole life whether it was to end tomorrow, or lasted several decades.

"I don't want to be late, so I'm going to grab my coat and head to the Grand Phoenix now."

Victoria walked past him and was about to go down to put on her coat and pumps. He looked like he was going to say something. Billy looked like he figured out what to say, how he'd say even though he wasn't all that tactful.

Instead, Billy simply told her to have a good time tonight, and kissed her on the cheek.

"If I haven't outright told you, you look incredible. Your hair. Looks good on you."

"Thank you."

Down the stairs Billy went to make Johnny and Katie popcorn for a marathon that wouldn't have included her. Of course, it wouldn't have – not when she had her own party waiting for her and there was always the Winter Fair this weekend. Victoria tried not to feel stung, and the smallest bit hurt. But if it was any consolation, she thought, coming down the stairs herself, she stopped thinking of herself of Margaret Anderson years ago. One of them had to come back down to earth.

It didn't mean she had to ruin the illusion for Johnny and Katie.

Age, understanding and experience would.

Victoria shrugged her on her coat, put on her shoes and took in the picture of her children snuggled up to their father, bowl of popcorn between the three of them.

She was gone before those first notes of the _Father Knows Best_ theme song played.

—

"Thank goodness. Another person to endure this madness," Eleanor Forsythe Sterling bemoaned even though it was good-natured deep down, way deep down.

The First Lady of Wisconsin had been born in London, the stiff upper lip as her emotional guide and Victoria related. She handed her coat to the young host and pinned him with a glare more severe than hers on a good day, as Victoria did the same. "These are from Burberry, worth more than what you make in six months. Be careful with it."

The host flinched and he quickly summoned an employee to take care of it and he did.

"Of course, Mrs. Sterling, Ms. Newman, follow me," he answered, with a nervous yet professional air. "Allow me to direct you to your privacy area. It's paparazzi free. Your sister had requested everything be perfect. Please enjoy your evening. Will you be partaking in the Red Room tonight—"

"Absolutely not," Eleanor cut him off sharply with hard pale blue eyes. They were a couple shades lighter than hers. Eleanor wasn't just chilly, just mean most of the time, but Victoria had no problem with it. It was just how Eleanor related to others. Steph being the way she was suddenly made totally complete sense to me.

"Red Room?" Victoria questioned the host, mildly intrigued. She made a mental note to ask Abby later. She might have had an idea, but she was curious. Yes, she was a spoken for woman but there was no harm in satisfying the itch of curiosity she couldn't help but scratch.

The host had lost his previous nervousness and beamed at her, "Oh, yes. The Red Room is something for our more high-end, privacy-oriented clients. The ones with more sexual tastes that are deemed more peculiar than average and want to, um, explore them freely," he continued, explaining as Eleanor muttered a _bloody hell_ behind her. "Of course, there are safety precautions, privacy and legal safeguards in place to protect the clients and the Grand Phoenix, but that's usually the premise."

"Ah," Victoria said, catching his drift. Eleanor simply had Resting Bitch Face at all times and Stephanie being her daughter made perfect sense. No one should have been terrifying that young but she and Reed had a close friendship, and Johnny and Katie loved her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Follow me here, please."

She followed the host to a back area until they came to a place of the Grand Phoenix with bright lighting of pinks, purples and blues. There were others here. Some danced. Others had close conservation over elaborately requested cocktails at the bar. There were only a handful of people compared to the ones outside. She was enclosed and safe from the troubles of outside for a few hours. Victoria noticed Eleanor's bangs while she, in turn, noticed the dark hue of Victoria's hair.

"The bangs looked great, Eleanor," Victoria said after a moment's silence. "I had them a few years ago," she remembered how much she had wanted to try it, but bangs weren't her. At all. She cringed. "Not one of my best moments."

"Ah, well, we all have those. Not me, but others. Your hair isn't one of those moments."

Victoria slid into the booth with Eleanor following and a ready bucket of champagne on the table. Thea was getting engaged to a good man after years of being a mother and a police detective. She had been divorced and raised two children as a single mother until Lou moved away with his girlfriend, Ava and young granddaughter, Zahra, to enlist in the military. She knew Ramona was a sweet girl, shy but an outstanding track and field sprinter and was already a budding basketball player at Genoa City High. Thea had spent so many years being in these other roles, looking out for others while devoting her life to protecting and serving. But her friend had found something lasting for herself and Victoria couldn't have been happier. Victoria and Eleanor shared smiles of two children who were about to steal something not quite theirs, but theirs for the taking. Eleanor examined the bottle of champagne, a 1996 Dom Preignon Rose Gold Methuselah approximately worth $49,000.

Eleanor smiled faintly, the rose gold bottle sparkling under the club lights.

"Your sister hasn't hired the staff to be completely incompetent. Well done, Abby. Elizabeth and Dorothea aren't here as of yet. Shall we?"

Victoria met her smile – one of a conspirator and she expecting nothing less from her friend – with one of her own and shrugged, feeling a little footloose and fancy-free tonight. Whatever happened, happened. Eleanor did have a sense of humour. It was just hard to find or understand. Most people did not.

"Sure. I don't see why not."

She pictured Thea's reaction to how expensive this champagne was.

"_Bitch!"_ she could hear Thea yell directed at Eleanor specifically, spitting the champagne back out into her flute even though she was the guest of honour and it was her engagement they were here for. "_Forty-nine how much? What is this? Fermented blood of young children_? _Victoria, you're my homegirl but you're foul as hell_! _Like…should I arrest y'all? This feels illegal."_

"_Thea, I'm an attorney. Speak for yourself_," Victoria visualized her friend high-fiving her, and then taking a swig of her champagne and re-filling her glass. "_I need the liquid de-stressor and I missed you girls."_

She laughed quietly to herself, taking a sip of champagne.

—

Genoa City was a contradictory place. It was unassuming at first glance and one's eyes would pass over it on a globe or map. The average person would skip over Genoa City for something glamorous like Los Angeles, or metropolitan and cultured like New York City. Maybe even for the old money dynasties of Connecticut and Rhode Island or turn their eye all the way out west for the glamour and warmth of California. He missed the Mediterranean air of Greece where it was carried the salty of the water along the coast of its island. He longed for his family private island with the little white chapel where his parents had wed. Enzo found himself missing the cobblestone roads of Florence and the dome of the Duomo's presence always there in its skyline. Florence was home. It was built with the blood of his ancestors and their bones of his forefathers lay in elaborately decorated crypts and holy churches.

However, Genoa City called to him because in this sleepy, small midwestern town he saw the future. It was a place where families could grow. People were hard working and the rich could be within touching distance of the poor. There was a thriving business landscape ripe for Mancini International. Just maybe if sheer circumstance, the fates or even the saints themselves found some favour with him despite committing many sins – unknowingly and knowingly – she would enter his life the way they had, admiring beautiful things in an art gallery in Rome. Enzo remembered the crystalline blue of her eyes, the brightness of her smile and how it grabbed some innermost part of him more than any painting or sculpture did. Enzo recalled her radiance and the way her laugh sounded.

He was at the bar, having talked to a few people. Perfect strangers for no reason other the fact that he liked to be vague and observe people in an environment. Despite having a naturally calm nature, his mother had the mind of a strategist and war general. His father taught him that it wasn't always necessary to go into an area with sword visible at the ready. It was best, most of the time, to approach seemingly harmless only for the other person to realize their throat had been cut with a carefully hidden dagger instead.

He was a nicely dressed stranger passing through the night. A nobody with the intentions, power and prestige of a somebody.

Enzo took a sip of his bourbon at the bar when a flash of red hair came into his peripheral vision. A tall of woman of flame coloured hair wore a deep purple dress that clung to her curves. She smirked and stared at him cool yet curious eyes before she sat on the seat next to him.

"You know…" she rests an elbow on the bar, cheek cradling in her palm. "There isn't a person that comes through this hotel that I don't know about."

"Ah, you'd like to know me?"

"Precisely. Your accent tells me you're not from around here."

Enzo chuckled, amused. Genoa City was such a strange place, but he never shied away from anything. He felt fear like everyone else, but he had no time to dwell on it and no time to ruminate on it. He felt anticipation and did not want to act on it because it wasn't the time or the place. Enzo had planned everything and even understood this woman was one got in the way of carefully laid plans or got rid of them all together.

He turned to her, pensively tapping a finger against the short glass.

"For all you know, I could be a murderer."

"And I could be undercover and wearing a wire."

He shook his head after searching her face. "No," he said, after a moment. "You are not the confessional type," he smiled, fully. "However, you _are _Phyllis Summers, Head of Security of this establishment."

A look of genuine surprise crossed her face before she shrugged it off. But he had rattled her and therefore, Enzo's job – one of them – had been done. He finished the rest of his drink and stood, drawing to his full height. Phyllis stood, offering her hand. He took it and brought it to his lips.

"Forgive me but I have a tendency to keep myself appraised on whoever I may come across. Force of habit. Lorenzo Mancini," he introduced himself, formally. There was no need for the mystery to continue. He was looking to put down roots in Genoa City instead, not rip them out of the ground before they became grounded.

She stared at him, lips in a sultry smile. "Of course. I'll be watching you."

Enzo replied, looking her up and down. She was attractive, the type of woman he could and would have slept with for one night, only to forget the loneliness that crept up on him. Those were nights he had cursed her and tried to forge some kind of hatred for her when the love he still carried for her was too much to bear. His parents had left him, and aside from Valentina, he was alone in a world that had him amassing more wealth, possessions and power but had moved on in other areas without him. Who or what gave her the right to fall in love with other men, marry them and bear children that weren't his when he had been stuck in purgatory? Still, he could have never truly hate her and harbour anything dark towards her. He wished her and quietly for cheered her successes in the shadows. Phyllis Summers was a welcome distraction.

"I look forward to being watched, Ms. Summers."

Phyllis shot him one last look before turning to walk away to the silver elevators. He watched her step into the open double doors before they slid closed. Enzo went into inside jacket pocket for his wallet and slid a $100 dollar bill on the bar. The bartender thanked him and offered him another drink. Maybe something stronger or something new for the palette.

Enzo glanced at the assortment alcohol until his eye caught a bottle of _Sof Campo di Sasso _rosato wine, a rosé wine of a 2017 vintage. The pink colour reminded him of the natural pink blush that came across the apple of her cheeks underneath a sunrise.

"Give me your most expensive version of that rosé. It is an Italian dry rosato from Tuscany, my friend. It's fragrant and aromatic because of the Cabarnet Franc and yet powerful because of the Syrah," he explained, as Christopher, his name tag showed, listened and popped the cork and smoothly poured it into a wine glass. Enzo swirled the wine and put the glass under his nose. "Ah, yes – the berries."

He took a sip, savouring its sweetness and indulging in the spicy undertones on his tongue.

"Yes, this is perfect, Christopher," Enzo complimented, gratefully. "Grazie."

Christopher smiled, and shrugging. "Di niente," he continued saying really, that it was nothing and no problem at all, amid Enzo's genuine surprise. This young man's Italian was very good, nearly fluent and he told him so. "Well, it has to be. Thank you. My mother's family is from Italy."

"Which region…If you don't mind my asking you so?"

"No, it's okay. Bologna."

"The food is wonderful there!" Enzo enthused. "But you know… the art and history in Firenze – bar none, Christoforo. Do you know what? I like you," he went into his inner pocket of his suit blazer and produced a black and silver business card. "Here is my card. Call me if bartending doesn't challenge you professionally."

Christopher looked at him and the card and pocketed it.

"Mancini International? Abby might be really mad at me, but I'll think about it."

"Smart man. It's good to wait and deliberate. Florence… Bologna. All Italy," he said, dismissively. "Life is funny. You lose, you gain. Sometimes, you're in a moment in life where one move could alter the course of one's life. Between, you and me, that is how I feel right now," Enzo remarked, and grew pensive before meeting his eyes. He had a request. Not necessarily, a request because he liked to know where he was, the area, the space. He ran a lazy finger around the rim of the wine glass, smiling to himself. A bell-like sound emitted in the air for a moment the length of one heartbeat. Maybe two. Then he removed his finger from the half-empty glass. He looked resigned, which hadn't been far from the truth. "Ah, it does not matter."

Christopher nodded as if he had understood, and topped him off.

"I'll leave you to it, Mr. Mancini. If you want more privacy, you're welcome to our VIP area through that door over there," Christopher directed and wished him a good evening before his bar side companion tossed a towel over a shoulder. He disappeared throwing the back doors and Enzo drank his rosé along close to finishing but not quite.

Florence was a lifetime ago, but he had waited several lifetimes only to get a glimpse of her. Blue dress that sculpted her and emphasized the lines and curves his hands could place. Dark hair as he remembered it even though she radiated with a light as she walked by with who she assumed to be a friend. He heard her laughter and yes, it was unmistakable.

It was the one sound that either settled deeply somewhere within touching his soul or on sleepless nights tortured him so relentlessly, Enzo thought he may go mad.

Still, Enzo let his feet carry him to this secret enclave of the Grand Phoenix.

When he found this place of both private and loud, his eyes heard that sound. That laughter. Saw that figure in the blue dress dancing on a wide rainbow lit floor. It was a moving tapestry of bodies pressed together, thumping bass underneath his feet and liquor that never seemed to run dry. There she was. Victoria Newman. The successful, powerful businesswoman he knew from financial articles and the Wall Street Journal. The woman they touted as The Princess who Finally became another Queen Victoria, just as legendary.

But in a flurry movement, all Enzo's blue eyes saw her. Her free spirit alive and breathing wrapped in light so bright, it would have burned him. It had. It had engulfed him and settled as a sharp heat in his blood. Ah, it all came rushing back. Dancing all over Italy's hottest clubs with reckless abandon. Her incandescent and yet seductive as she plucked his cigarette from between his lips. Victoria placed it between hers, inhaled and then released the smoke in thin ribbon like wisps that danced through his smoke circles. She was as dangerous as she was soft and vulnerable.

Victoria_, his_ Victoria, had called out to him like a siren, and he had followed. Enzo watched, unable to peel his eyes away. He was in a museum of Victoria, sensory overload eroding his carefully constructed wall until he was nothing but a dying man craving relief. He watched in the shadows and would wait. He had waited for 15 years. A few more minutes to treasure her in her rawest moments was timeless.

_I told you, _he heard Victoria's husky whisper close to his ear, feeling her smile against his collarbone. She always did find a way to torture him just enough to tease him. _We'll always find each other, Enzo. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

With the Andersons long gone for the uncertain future, and two sleeping kids dead to the world in their beds, Billy nursed a tumbler of amber coloured whiskey. He toasted to the silence in the house and the barking of the beagle belonging to the elderly couple four houses down. At least, Cheddar was having the time of his life. Billy had called Victoria to let her know Johnny and Katie were asleep in bed. Victoria answered the phone even with the bass thumping in the background and sounding like a woman on the brink of disappearing inhibitions. He knew it well. Billy knew Victoria could not handle her alcohol and under the façade of being prim and proper was a carefree, wild woman. He heard her giggle about something that had nothing to do with him, the children or their family before she tuned back into him.

"Okay, um… that's great," she laughed again, trying to be present with him. "I'll be home soon."

It was a foolish question, but he asked anyway exactly. A kind of irritation settled onto his skin like the sheen of fresh rain, dewy and uncomfortable. The mystery of Florence lingered, juxtaposed against the changes in Victoria's mood and her look at the same time. Billy tossed the liquor back, wincing against the heat it caused in his chest. Victoria told him she wasn't sure, but she _would_ be home. Before she could say more and he could be assured that she wouldn't disappear further and further away from him, the phone shuffled.

Billy heard the chipper voice of Izzy, slurring and slightly admonishing. He could visualize Izzy in all her dancer's glory, dominating a dance floor of strangers and establishing that her greatest priority for the night was Victoria's fun. That wasn't about to be disturbed. Something about Girl Code and sisterhood. He sighed, and rolled his eyes. Izzy meant nothing by it. Billy knew logically it was just girl time, but getting to hear Victoria's voice above the noise meant something to him. To have Victoria pick up when he expected her voicemail meant there was effort on her part. A stranger had taken that away from him and he swore, Izzy too drunk to register it much less hear it.

"Billy…" Izzy laughed. She almost crooned, as if trying to finding the beginning of a song unfinished but left with reckless drunken abandon. There was a bass thumping that sounded like its own heartbeat. It was probably one of those situations where he had to be there to experience it. "Victoria did a really, really bad thing. You…wanna know…?"

Apprehension coiled in his gut. Her friend was drunk. The kind of drunk that would breathe life into the forbidden.

Billy's mind didn't have the time to wander and delve into this complex question because Victoria someone managed to wrestle her cell phone away from her friend. There was an undertone of annoyance and it was good-natured and Billy heard the warmth in it.

"Izzy, give me my phone back!"

"No… it's for your own good. This is...an Anti-Billy zone!" Izzy slurred, chuckling. Billy pictured the lawyer's trademark curls, free or with some hair accessory that made her fun, accessible but still with the seriousness of a lawyer. "You broke the rules, babe."

"My children are asleep," Victoria argued evenly like she was the lawyer. "I move we make an exception to the Charter of Girls' Night due to how much Johnny and Katie they love their Tia Izzy."

"Aw!" she squealed. "And Tia Izzy loves them! Okay…" Billy could hear a banging noise, twice. A makeshift gavel. "Motion passed—oh my God, this is my song! Bye, Billy!"

"Hey…" Victoria came back on, exhaling. "I'm sorry about that. You get a happy occasion, $49,000-dollar liquor and four people who haven't seen each other in a while, and you get…that. Did they get to sleep okay?"

"Yep. Father Knows Best took care of it for me."

"No sugar crash, and Goodnight Song needed?"

"Nope."

Billy had lied. There had been a sugar high that had Katie and Johnny literally running circles around him. He had caught Johnny with one arm and caught Katie in the other in a feat of parental instinct and physical strength that would probably never be used again. Fine. The cookies and pizza were a bad idea. He could have sung the Goodnight Song, but they wanted the Big Brother Experience. Billy realized that his kids were missing Reed more than usual so it was nice to see them light up when they saw him via FaceTime and how easily they went to sleep when Reed played the Goodnight Song for them. Reed was a good kid and Billy did love him as much as a stepfather could, but there was a new kind of protectiveness in him when it came to Victoria. JT was in jail and Billy would have no trouble admitting he deserved being actually dead, but it was as if Reed felt the loss of one parent so deeply, he wanted to hold on to the one he did have. School was going fine. The music was going better and Billy was proud of him. To be eighteen and have a certain starting point to adulthood was rare. Ask him if Billy remembered what happened at eighteen, and he wouldn't have been able to answer. He had burned through life that fast, that soon, that quickly.

"Alright. Good," she replied. A silence hung between them before she broke it first. "I'm going to go now. Have a good night, Billy."

"You, too."

He wished a great night and hung up, left with nothing to say because it wouldn't matter. He had always seen their relationship as the way a ribbon held with a strong grip controlled the flight of a helium balloon. The balloon was still inflated with helium but it would be tied with ribbon float at a certain height, but now, the helium balloon cut free and flying into the atmosphere. It was like that story Dad used to tell him about Icarus, the boy who had wax wings and flew close to the sun with the idiotic thought that he would not be burned. Icarus was either too big of a dreamer, an idiot or both. Billy Abbott wanted the intact wings of wax and safety from the sun. Why the hell couldn't _he_ have both?

Billy tossed his phone on the coffee, irritated and exhausted. She had spoken to him as if their last conservation hadn't been intense with his fire unable to melt her ice. _Florence isn't yours, and soon she won't be either. _Billy got rid of the empty tumbler the same way he had thrown the popcorn away, made sure the children – as sleepy as they were – brushed their teeth, and got to bed. At the end of the process, he came away alone. He got up from the couch and wandered over to the mantle. His eyes landed on the mantle, taking in the picture of them at last Halloween party. This was before everything that could go wrong did. This was the one night where nothing was right or wrong because Billy's imagination was just as large as hers. They were parents, and partners. They were adults in the real world, but that night, Billy saw the carefree, creative side of her. People out there that she was this serious, powerful ice queen because Victoria tended to give off this regal, icy slightly neurotic energy. But that night, there were in a world of unicorns, cowboys, dragons and the one fairy or two.

He looked at her and yeah, they were the fabulously undead who – in Victoria's words: aged gracefully – but it was always a fun time.

Billy had one thought before Victoria accepted his invitation to their warm Transylvanian castle against the backdrop of a peaceful yet winter. _I'd love this woman for another 500 centuries. _

In the present, Billy couldn't sort out one good moment with Victoria from the horrific ones. He couldn't sort out how absolutely gorgeous she had looked feeling the house from quiet mornings where she looked like a painting of calm with no makeup on as she slept next to him. Now, they were two co-habitating, quasi-married ships who passed each other in the night.

Billy ran a hand through his hair, physical exhaustion catching up with him.

Victoria. Lorenzo Mancini. His familiar need to grab his keys, get in the car and go. His Empty Glass bar alone to Victoria's engagement party, all alcohol-infused and wild. He was playing a game of Russian Roulette, a revolver spinning in the center of a poker table with only one bullet in the chamber. He had a choice to make: take the revolver and pull the trigger or not. Maybe it was an empty chamber. Maybe the bullet would finally kill whatever part of him held him back and still rattled him. Billy understood this darkness wasn't gone but would linger around. _You're not insane, Billy. You're by no means crazy. Mental health doesn't mean you instantly get your pick of medication either. We're all doing some kind of mental health management. It's how you cope. So, _Billy remembered Dr. Richards asking as if they were meeting up for beers, _how do you cope?_

_I don't know, _he recalled, answering honestly. _I don't know if I __**am**__ coping. _

Billy saw the past spinning and did not how to make it stop. At this point where he saw the abyss and if he felt the ground tilted underneath him, he would reach out and see Victoria with her hand offered out to him. All he had to do was reach out. All Billy had to do was see past the fog and take her hand. She would have held on and let him lean on her. He heard her assurance over and over, as clearly as the first time she said it with all the sincerity in her eyes. Victoria could lie to anyone, put on whatever defensive airs she had to for her own emotional survival, but her eyes always gave her away. It was her tell. _I don't want you to be this perfect man who has to be forced to fit into a box. I don't have things put together either. You're human. Just reach out and I'll be here. I don't know how many times I can tell you that. _But what was he supposed to do when Victoria kept her hand farther and farther away and that big beautiful heart at a distance?

He glanced at his phone, and for a brief moment, thought it wouldn't do any harm to text her because well, they had ended their friendship but they had to co-exist. It didn't mean things had to be weird between them. Billy knew he was bound to run into Amanda at the Grand Phoenix, or Crimson Lights. Nothing to do with a bar at the edges of town. But no, he resolved, it wasn't fair to her. He was a colossal mess of self-sabotage and needed to understand his demons, instead of outright fighting them. Amanda was starting her life while he was figuring out what his meant, what his purpose was. Everyone seemed to start somewhere.

The deep existential questions he asked himself had answers far too complex to uncover and ones that were obvious with truths that he did not want to face yet. Ignorance was bliss, right, and he had to focus on the good. Johnny and Katie were asleep peacefully. He was the coolest daddy ever to two young children who had pieces of his heart they could kept forever. He was home and still felt the love infused in it just as strongly as the day Gloria had handed him the keys to this place.

For tonight though, Billy decided to turn in.

He wondered over to the living room light, foot resting on the first step.

"Goodnight, Vick," he said to a woman he felt was there, but physically wasn't.

Billy switched off the light and chose to have a dreamless sleep instead of letting his imagination go wild all alone.

—

She saw these women in various places in town, had coffee at certain places and there were always the long text sessions that never broke no matter how many commitments came up. Victoria never lost contact with them. Eleanor with her English manner left her wanting to visit Noah and witness the art of his photography in person in London. Her themed parties were always legendary and had her feeling as though Victoria had fallen into the rabbit hole. Half ball. Half circus. It was the three times in the year where things were naturally weird, and formal at the same time. Eleanor's children were diverse just like hers. Eleanor's five to her three. Victoria was most familiar with Stephanie, the middle one. There was a quiet respect for Stephanie in the way she was terrifying in the way she conducted herself. She had a sort of affection for Reed, and she was sweet with the kids. Victoria heard how she had basically assaulted a customer because of a low supply of cookies and brought Johnny and Katie a box of desserts. Stephanie was always a shadow. There, and then wasn't. It was a learning curve and something Victoria got used to, but getting know Eleanor made it easy.

_You remember my little sister, Diana? She is exactly like this, _she recalled JT telling her when he first came into town and finally, Reed let his father meet his friend. Right. Her once sister-in-law. A doctor in New Hampshire. Victoria had never met and JT only spoke of Diana a handful of times. According to him, they weren't close, but there was always love there. Diana was a high school senior when she was supposed to be a freshmen, finished college in Las Vegas at 18, and finished her medical school education in her early twenties. _It always seemed like she was older than me. She's my younger sister, but I never got to have that big brother experience. It's like she didn't need me for that because she was that independent. She moved out of the house really young to live with our aunt._ _I get people like Stephanie. __Silent, but protective. Will Steph cause bodily harm? Yes, but she knows why. She's okay for Reed. That's what my gut as his dad says._ Eleanor was okay for Victoria. Silent yet understanding. Razor sharp and stoic, but with a reasoning that Victoria completely understood and respected. She was a well-known person with a sense of breaking the boundaries of society and could do it so freely without question.

Izzy with her sunshine, dancing aptitude and her deceptive _Brooklyn Bulldog _grit in the courtroom made her feel like visiting New York. Not the luxurious side of it, but just as it was. Izzy beamed, agreed to be her tour guide one day. _However, never decide to be a Knicks fan. It's sadomasochism. The Nets...well, jury's out. The Yankees, though? Yes. _Izzy was determined to teach her to smoothly maneuver a stripper pole in an artful way when there was no way Victoria's body could do that – not compared to Izzy, who had been dancing since the age of 2. Victoria was physically flexible due to advanced yoga and a bit more physically defensive because there was a certain stress relief in kickboxing, but going to a pole dancing class? No.

Izzy was sweet to her, and her children. Victoria was used to Corrine's singing and when coupled with Reed's guitar playing when they were working on something music-related. Izzy always welcomed them into her home and treated him as if they were hers. In turn, Victoria had no problem having Corinne, Jesse, or Gwyneth over. Johnny liked Tatianna who by his admission, was his girlfriend. For one who just arrived, her brother Hector was pretty adapted to life in the Midwest. Thea's friendship with her was the longest and came from motherhood and raising two adventurous boys who got re-acquainted as teenagers prone to very, very stupid decisions. If Reed was somewhere, Louis was never far behind. Thea talked her off a ledge Reed – through no fault of his own – made her climb, and when Louis made her a grandmother a year and a half ago, it was Victoria's turn to calm her friend down. A sign of pure coincidence made Victoria believe that her friendship with Thea was genuine and real. Zahra, Thea's beautiful granddaughter, had been born on the 29th of November. Reed's birthday. It was fitting that her son become godfather to this little girl and to her amazement, he took the title with great responsibility. He had come back around the holidays for her Christening and Christmas with the family. Louis had grown into fatherhood and his relationship with his child's mother was more serious than Thea thought. Louis had moved away, choosing to enlist in the military and took Ava and Zahra with him, but Reed had a great relationship with that little girl. Louis had helped her, and Newman, a great deal through the hack and a lot of the security measures he put in place were due to him.

She remembered telling her father that this was the young man they were indebted to, and Louis being almost starstruck when he met her father. To Louis, she had gone from Ms. Newman to Ms. Victoria, and Auntie V. But it was all yes, sir and no, sir, and Southern politeness. Louis had politely declined a job with Newman IT, full-time and then apologized profusely if he came off rude in any way. He just wanted to take care of his family his own way, and do something for others at the same time. Her father merely sighed and then with that twinkle in his eye, told Louis that he respected that greatly in someone so young. _You, young man, have a lot of integrity. A lot of heart. You are a true friend to my grandson and I sincerely thank you for saving the company I built from detrimental collapse. I respect and admire the sacrifice that you are about to make for all of us. You return to Genoa City, and that job offer is yours. However, as a token of my gratitude, I've established a small trust for your child. She is after all, in a way, tied to my family through my grandson, Reed which makes you family._

Louis looked like the little boy she had met. The one attached to his mother's hand and always trying to make Reed laugh. But he was uncharacteristically quiet and serious and when her father offered his hand, he shook it firmly. _Thank you, sir. Usually, I have no problem with words, but I'm speechless. I have no words except the right ones, just thank you. I was happy to put in the work to secure this company and I promise, nobody will hack this company again. I'd be happy to show you how it all functions. Newman is Fort Knox and if anyone does try, I've rigged this whole system to break their entire mainframe beyond repair. _

Her dad looked at her, then him and obliged with a warm smile on his face. The anti-hacking was both defensive and offensive, leaving Victoria confident and her father in amazement.

Thea's daughter, Mona, was a talented budding track star with an ambitious for the future being on an Olympic podium. At Faith's age, Mona was already second fastest teenage sprinter in the state. Victoria was impressed with how disciplined and focused Mona was to be the fastest. Number one.

Second-best seemed to not be enough for Mona, and Victoria could relate.

—

Life knew it was always going to be Victoria, Eleanor, Izzy and Thea, so aside from the occasional call from Billy to tell her the marathon had ended and he was headed to bed, she had a great time. She forgot the real world issues that plagued her and felt life though a merciful hand had pressed some pause button. Victoria drank until she was mildly tipsy, yet still aware of her surroundings. It was celebration. Something happy was happening, and Victoria needed this more than she realized.

Victoria danced a little, appreciating the music rather than standing on the sidelines. They talked and forgot how many times she laughed and how good it was for the soul. Thea actually gushed over her fiancée, Derek Ramsay, and actually blushed. The square cut engagement ring that rested comfortably on her ring finger shimmered under the club lights.

"Oh, Thea," Victoria breathed, admiring the diamond, and the ring as a whole. The band holding the diamond was studded with smaller stones, "this is absolutely stunning."

"I know," Thea smiled, radiating in a one shoulder black dress. Her hair fell in loose waves and her makeup flawlessly done. She was never this done up when being Detective Campbell, so it was nice. This is what happiness looked like when it filled someone up from the inside out. Thea was glowing. Victoria remembered when Billy had proposed to her again. For a moment, her heart stopped with one thought. _I love him. He loves me. He wants to be a family._ Victoria had been so certain of where she stood with Billy, she didn't care about the ring or everything that went into a wedding. Victoria didn't need a dress, cake, or even a church. At that time, Victoria looked at him, their beautiful children – and yes, it included Reed – and thought _this is bliss. I could love him forever. _To have her faith shaken now was a shock to everything she knew to be true, and even in Thea's celebration, she felt a pang of a sadness. Victoria shook it off, immediately. This was about Thea. Not her. Thea was a survivor. A warrior, even, and even warriors had the right to be loved and seen as something precious. Thea exhaled, with a stunned laugh, eyes never leaving her ring. When she did, tears pooled in her eyes. "Y'all know it's hard to surprise me, but the man got me. I'm going to be a bride."

"You deserve this," Victoria said, firmly, looking her in the eye. "You do so much for others, and I'm elated you've found someone to care for you forever this time."

Eleanor let a smile of a hostess rest on her lips, "Well, this calls for a toast," she suggested, and topped off her glass before she graciously did the same for Izzy, her and, finally, the guest of honour. "Alright, ladies. Let's raise a glass to Derek and Dorothea and wish them a wonderful engagement and even happier life together."

"Here, here!" Izzy said, brightly, throwing an arm around Victoria's shoulder.

Victoria laughed, "I'll drink to that."

—

A sweet firefighter named Graham had sent her a drink, a fruity, multicoloured cocktail. Sweet with a hint of heat. He had been trading gazes with her from various parts of the bar and she couldn't help but silently harmlessly flirt back, aware of him.

"Ooh, he's cute! That firefighter looking at Victoria all night is like, a solid 10.5. Only because I married a 25," Izzy slurred, finishing the last of her martini. "Shit. That's good…" she trailed off, and then continued on her tangent. "I'm a happily married woman, but… that man is sexy as hell. His dick looks big," she observed, voice breaking with tears in her eyes. "I miss Brian. I want his dick inside me. I really want sex. It's so big—"

"Izzy!" Victoria cried, in both surprise and horror. There was a humour in this situation. However, Victoria made a mental note to never let her have any alcohol before any cases. Or, during cases. This was funny because someone was even more of a lightweight than her, but in all seriousness, Izzy need to go sleep it off. "You're drunk."

"Oh, girl, no! Coffee for you from here on out. Brian's gotta come get his wife."

Eleanor slapped a hand over her mouth. "Elizabeth," she said, sternly, while Victoria coughed, the drink going down the wrong way. Meanwhile, it was Eleanor who took control of the situation. "Look at me. You are horribly intoxicated. You're going to take a nap now. Is that understood? Think of licking my palm, and I will cut your tongue out."

Eleanor removed her hand, slowly with Izzy staring intently into her eyes.

"You have really scary eyes, but they're so pretty and blue…" Izzy giggled and tapped the end of her nose, slightly singing. "Are you a vampire because… I think you are…"

Eleanor sighed, and deadpanned with sarcasm. "Yes, Elizabeth. I am a vampire, masquerading you among you wretched mortals."

"Let the jury hear… that you have no… reflections."

Victoria whispered, asking, "Are _we_ the jury, Thea?"

"I knew tonight was going to be weird when Eleanor surprised me with $50,000-dollar champagne," Thea replied, looking confused yet biting back a smile of amusement. "So, yes?" she spoke louder and slid out of the booth, helping Izzy up to her feet. "Alright," Thea sighed, and found herself yawning, "I'm going to get rooms for us. Izzy's too drunk to drive, and frankly, I'm tired and need to get some sleep before picking Mona up from her sleepover in the morning. Eleanor, thank you for the party. I will not forget it. Victoria, please go talk to that man. I love you," she said, sincerely. In her eyes, Victoria heard the one statement she always reminded her of, but never verbalized. It lingered there, but she never said it. Not yet. _Billy may be the love of your life, but he doesn't have to steal the rest of your life. You deserve to be happy too._

One day, she would say it and hit Billy in ways that hurt when Victoria grew tired and had nothing left to give. That terrified her, so Victoria always put herself in situations where Thea could say that to her as advice instead of wielding it as a weapon.

In some ways, it was true. It was absolutely true.

Victoria replied, sincerely, the words simple but the meaning behind them heavy.

"I love you, too."

"And I love everybody! Even you, Len – fangs and all. Vampire rights matter!" Izzy proclaimed, and then wobbled on her feet. Eleanor narrowed her eyes and the shortening of her name. Victoria felt her friend bristle. Maybe Eleanor liked the shortening of her name, and maybe, just maybe, Eleanor did not. Victoria thought she was a coin, constantly turning while airborne. Izzy cleared her throat, and stated matter-of-factly, rubbing her head. "Ohhhh… I'm very intox—intoxi—I mean, drunk, but I wanna do a cartwheel."

"Cartwheel tomorrow…"

Izzy saluted, "Yes, Detective. I can walk… Hmmm… No, I can't. Okay, bye…"

Thea gently steered her away from where they arrived. Victoria could hear Thea warning Izzy not to puke until they disappeared from view. Poor Izzy. She would have going to be hungover and a storm cloud of crankiness. Then it was just Eleanor and Victoria, the first two to arrive, and evidently, the last to hang back and eventually, leave.

—

"Go on," Eleanor directed, toward a dance floor which less bodies on it. "Please go entertain that gentleman's fantasies and indulge…yours."

Victoria glanced at her friend's knowing smirk, a thousand plans and many more secrets behind her eyes. She found herself, absentmindedly playing with the straw of her half-consumed drink.

"I don't have fantasies, Eleanor."

For the first time tonight, Eleanor chuckled before she laughed. In a rare of show of friendship related affection, tapped Victoria's hand twice.

"Oh, please. Don't delude yourself. Yes, yes," she rolled her eyes, "you have three wonderful children and for reasons beyond _my_ comprehension, think William Foster Abbott is the end all be all for you. Attraction does not work that way. It's fluid and you can't quite stop it. It's not relegated to one person at all times. You are a woman with passion, primal urges and desires. It's all a matter of perception."

"You were adamant against The Red Room," Victoria argued, as a memory struck her. She levelled a cool gaze at the first lady of Wisconsin, who merely shrugged. "Why?"

"Because it's not that kind of room. It is not _50 Shades_. Anyone familiar with genuine BDSM circles would know that," she answered, with a glint in her eye. "The only reason why Robert has managed to be together for so long and have five children is not because of this picture-perfect drivel we've become experts at spinning."

"Next you're going to tell me there's a secret?"

"There isn't. Robert and I live in a strategic kind of madness. Our marriage is as open, and dangerous as we allow. Sometimes, he's my husband. Other times, he's my ally, and then the occasional time where he's my greatest enemy," she advised, pensive. Careful in her phrasing. To have a look into Eleanor's mind meant Victoria was staring through the opening of a door, slightly ajar. Her accent had high born English aristocracy woven into the words, but she could be a highly successful madam of a brothel and still have the same grace about her. "Sexually, we _never_ deny each other. We are free to sleep with each other and others."

"You're not monogamous?"

It wasn't judgement. She had an aversion to labels herself and was far from a prude. It was amusing when people thought she was. It was the farthest thing from that, but Victoria knew herself. She knew she was on an emotional slippery slope of sorts.

"Goodness, no! I never have been. Might I make a suggestion?"

Victoria shrugged, a smile on her lips. "No, but that won't stop you."

"No, it will not," Eleanor replies, with a rare genuine smile. She touched Victoria's face with a hand and it was unusually warm. There was an inside joke that they were two humans on Earth to physically have blood that ran cold. They liked to joke that it was a result of harsh Swiss winters and frigid yet beautiful English cold in the sprawling countryside. "Because you know in _here_," she continued, tapping Victoria's temple, "that you are a princess in a gilded cage when you should be a purely uninhibited queen."

Eleanor cleared her throat and kissed her on both cheeks, which was returned mutually before they separated.

"Be cold-blooded yet uninhibited. Apologize for nothing. It will serve you well. A man with these qualities gets the ability to change the world. A woman with the same…" she chuckles, musing. Victoria knew what it meant and how that sentence was going to end. An unspoken battle cry to a world that she would _create._

"A woman with the same qualities has the power to create a whole new world."

Eleanor tossed a glance at Henry, and then at her.

"Create your world and even causing a shift in his if you're so inclined. You have a lot more agency than you realize…"

She wished her a goodnight before she swept away into the shadows and was gone. She was alone with Eleanor's words swirling around in her mind like the way her ethical code touched her ruthlessness and made her insides greyer than usual. _Purely uninhibited. Unapologetic. _Victoria stared into her drink, feeling a sort of conflict arise in her. With the engagement party officially over, there was no mechanism to make her forget what had her feeling frustrated and at times, blind with rage. Her head pounded and it had nothing to do with the background music, and her patience began to thin like ice melting under the glare of an unforgiving heat.

She needed her house peaceful. She needed to feel connected to be the house she felt was hers, was hers and Billy's. As much as she wanted that and the memories stayed with her, Victoria couldn't find a way to establish any connection to that building with walls, rooms, two floors with an attic, a basement and a roof.

Graham piqued her curiosity, so Victoria stood and strode over to him, ready to change her world even if it was for a little while. She prided herself on knowing things ahead of time but not even she could foresee Enzo changing everything she knew forever.

—

Enzo knew that no matter how many years had passed between them, Victoria was hard to decipher at first glance. She was bruised, hardened from being in one battle to the next and that her heart was a jewel. It was a rare jewel but one had to almost walk through fire to get the privilege to glance at it. After her party had dispersed, Victoria was all alone. He could have seized his moment to surprise her, talk to her, and make himself known. He wasn't just in Genoa City for her although she had described her hometown with such fondness he could never forget. It was her fondness for this place combined with the way she immersed herself into all things Florence and Italy that had made her endearing to him. Victoria Newman was in some ways, refined and in others, bohemian. Victoria was contradiction, but Enzo knew the best way was to get her attention right now was use a memory.

For the first time since he had lost both of his parents and things were uncertain, a certain apprehension rose up in him. He reclined in his booth after being left alone – the odd woman or two had flirted with him and he obliged, but wasn't interested. This would end with him taking whoever she was to bed with superficial goodbyes in the morning. Enzo had to play this carefully for himself, just as her. Enzo heard her laugh, saw her move with a feline like grace that had the other gentleman putty in her hands. She was slightly intoxicated. Whoever he was did not know her, and certainly did not go through what it meant to love and lose someone like Victoria.

How was he supposed to casually stride up to her after a decade and a half apart? How was he supposed to find himself back into her life when both and Victoria had lived several lives apart?

Enzo was a patient man but even he felt a prick of reawakened jealousy when it was irrational for the green-eyed monster to make its presence known. But the way things had ended, itself, was wrought with tragedy out of both of their hands until there was no possible way to say farewell. Enzo could not remember if it had been him or her. Maybe his mind was so heavy, it did not have the strength of Atlas or Hercules and some merciful hand had erased it. A lot of occurrences after his father's death had become a blurred wasteland of what was true and what was a dream. After 2011, Greece felt like an oasis where the flames of hell barely touched him. His days were spent building Mancini International in the shadows of commerce until he was ready. Enzo invested, burned businesses down and then fashioned them out of ashes to create dynasties of his own until it became all he knew. It became his essence, all he lived and breathed until he was forced to come up for air. Enzo had come up for air, and seen the world as it was and what it could be for him.

He had lived 15 years on pause and as Victoria smiled, and pressed a cheek to this man's cheek, Enzo smirked lightly before observation time was over. It was not in Enzo's nature to stay on the sidelines the sidelines. It would have been downright lunacy to start now.

—

Victoria still felt drunk, still tipsy, but more than anything, she felt bolder. Awake. Victoria felt a bit more daring and like if she wanted, she could bungee jump off the domed Duomo roof. Of course, she wouldn't. That was impossible and had to go against several Italian laws. It didn't mean she didn't have a small longing for Florence and the Tuscan countries. Florence was a place where something new happened every day, yet she could stand still and be in a century she didn't exist in. In Florence, Victoria used her feet and sense of wonder to travel. It was a town of its own, a community where strangers became friends, separate from the grandeur of Rome or the hustle and bustle of Milan. The whole appeal was being in a place where no one knew her, or did, but did not care. Maybe that's one Eleanor had arranged for the engagement party to be in this section of the Grand Phoenix. Be as well-known as you want, but still have the ability to be anonymous.

Graham came into her line of view and even knowing, she had a man at home, Victoria's heart raced a little faster. He was talking with who she assumed were friends at another section of the club. He was an attractive man even under moody club lights of pinks, purples and dark blues. In profile, Victoria likened his body and stance to Michaelangelo's _David_ – the marble sculpture she had seen at the _Galleria deli'Accademia_ plenty of times. Victoria had always an appreciation for the male physique but perhaps, artistically, Graham had his own lines and planes. Valleys and peaks carved from flesh and bone with mysterious hands.

He wasn't mysterious at all, but was very attractive in a wholesome, bring-you-Apple-pie kind of way. Charming, too. He was a firefighter, and Victoria chuckled, musing he probably saved cats from trees, kissed babies all with a gleaming cape in the wind just so. Did he leap between buildings in a single bound? If he did, she would keep it secret.

Graham laughed, his eyes the colour of moss, twinkling. He wasn't anyone with a hidden agenda. Just a guy from Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh. Just a guy who came to Genoa City to see what Society and the Grand Phoenix were about and so far, it lived up to the hype.

"And the verdict?"

Graham leaned against the bar, his gaze sweeping over her and Victoria didn't mind. She could have told him she was the owner's older sister and thought the place was great. Abby had found her niche, able to carve a path to her own success for the short and long-term. She could have told Graham she was a powerful woman in her own right, but it seemed like wasted time. It seemed like a waste of breath, but assuming Graham was well-read, he would know. If he did not, Victoria did not care.

"I love the place," Graham answers, with a crooked smile on his features, "and the people? The best bonus I've come across. Especially you, Victoria."

She plays coy, glancing up at him from between mascara coated eyelashes, flirtatious with a slight cynicism. It was the only honest feeling she had in that moment. However, there was a benefit to her cynicism because the truth, whatever it was, did not make her run or turn away. She stared them down and faced them, as uncomfortable as they made her.

"I bet you say that all the girls you send tropical drinks to."

"Nope," Graham argued, sure of himself. "Just the ones that make me curious."

"Well," she replied, red lips curving into a smile, "you know what they say about curiosity killing cats, don't you?"

"I get the vibe that you are scary at times," Graham observed. "It's in your eyes, y'know?"

"Ah… it's that firefighter's intuition, I suppose."

"Damn. You figured out my secret."

Victoria smirked, and stared up at him. She was alone, still under the grip of alcohol with it warm in her veins and the pull of her darkest impulses – the ones she kept hidden, the ones she had her reveling in the blood of McLaren Manufacturing on her hands, the ones Adam had sensed and led him to imply they were more similar than she cared to admit – until for a brief moment, she gave in.

"Hmm," Victoria said, thinking after a moment, "I think I like you. It's a shame I'll never get to know the fortune of getting to know you better."

Graham surprised her by encircling her with strong arms and she cried out how quickly and deftly he could pull her. She found herself, giggling until she had to laugh. It was a release, almost. A release. New air filling her lungs. A kind of pleasure she knew was twisted but liked her control. She was the dominant one. Always, and it was refreshing to rediscover that part of herself and Victoria vowed to never let it go again. She separated from him, and ordered two drinks. A flute of champagne for her half-filled and rising with bubbles and one Death in the Afternoon, a soft rose petal drink in a martini glass. It contained a mixture of both absinthe and champagne.

Graham surveyed the drink in front of him before he raised the glass to hers.

"Interesting choice."

_Graham. _The name rang as clearly as a triangle and reverberated as powerfully as a gong in her mind. Victoria stared at him once and discreetly studied him. As deeply as the battle lines within her family were drawn, there was one fact that was more visual than anything. While Abby favoured Ashley's light colouring, dark hair and dark eyes were dominant between Newman relatives. Faith had Sharon's colouring and Victoria saw Phyllis in Summer's facial features more. Johnny was her son, biology be damned, but he looked nothing like Chelsea and favoured his namesake uncle and grandfather more strongly. It started innocently enough with Faith needing artistic help for a family tree assignment. So, she spent the day with her niece organizing both sides of the families that made of Faith Cassidy Newman. It was a nice collaboration and an opportunity to answer any questions about the family since she was the oldest. When the large construction paper tree was complete, relationships set in glue with little pictures of who was who, Victoria noticed something.

It was the combination of the critical mind of a businesswoman and the sharp art of an artist. A lot of people in the Newman family had dark colouring. Dark hair, defined facial features and dark coloured eyes. There were people like her, Katherine, Reed and Nicholas who still dark hair with light coloured eyes, but the theme remained the same. Noah has parts of Sharon, but could see her brother in her nephew's smile. Connor was the spitting image of Adam but side-by-side, Katie and Connor could pass for siblings rather than cousins. Reed held a guitar and sang in the same way JT had, had his father's body type with her hair type down to the type that grew thick and fast. He played a piano with the same ease as her mother, but in Reed, she saw the strong jawline as her father, Nick and Adam.

Christian – she loved that boy because he genuinely was the sweetest child despite his shyness and size – could have passed for _her _biological son and could not count how many times, she had to correct people politely. _As much as I love him like my son, Christian's my nephew. _The stranger would apologize and make some well meaning, apologetic remark about how much the boy bore a strong resemblance to her. Christian was Sage's child with Adam, biologically, but Nick was that boy's father. In the short time Victoria had taken care of him, he fit in nicely with Johnny and Katie already as close as they were. But Christian had a curious mind. He always wanted to help her with anything she did, and he peppered her with questions. He liked dinosaurs, but he read voraciously and liked art like her. She was happy to teach him and in turn, he told her everything he knew about cars.

When the assignment was long over, Victoria found it framed on the wall of her father's study and wasn't surprised. It was all about _family. _The family he built as a literal tree. She knew this was more than just a project to him. Faces. Stories. Connectivity. History, good and bad. Looking at faces look enough to find relatives interlocked no matter the relationship and generational gap. There was a common trait in the McLaren family, Victoria had to find.

Victoria tapped a nail against her glass, pensive as she studied him while still maintaining small talk with flirty undertones. He was still a man, but never one she would sleep with. Graham had tried to get her attention all night and finally, he had it. She recalled her review notes of the McLaren deal, colour posts attached. It struck her like finding the Judas in DaVinci's The Last Supper.

Of course.

"Yeah," Victoria answered with an easy smile. "I like trying something new, just once. However, I'm curious about something."

"Shoot."

"Hmm," she laughed, joking when part of could have thought if it was a reality, or she could make it one. But Victoria knew she could not live with taking another life for no reason, no logic. Logic was thread she knew to be as strong and thick as a cable. "Riddle me this, Graham. Do you leave sweet cards with your middle name to women or is just me?"

A shift in Graham's face – that wasn't his name, she knew that – happened. A flicker of something questionable that turned eyes into the colour of green swamp water.

He smirked, lightly. "I was wondering when you would catch on, Victoria. You're not a woman into names off the bat, or am I wrong?"

Victoria turned stoic, her blood cold.

"What's the agenda here, Henry?" she raised a questioning eyebrow, emphasizing his true name. "Are you Maeve's messenger?"

Henry Graham McLaren. Maeve's younger brother.

"Hardly. She's a big girl. I just happen to know her better than most."

Henry put his hands up in surrender before putting them down. He turned away from her and chuckled to himself before facing her. "So, this is the woman who toppled the legacy my great-grandfather built in one foul swoop. I never took you for the slash-and-burn type," he said as if really seeing her through new eyes. He shrugged, lazily. "I don't really care about the business. Never really been my thing. I do live in Pennsylvania and I'm legitimately just your average firefighter. It's never been Maeve's either, but I didn't choose the McLaren name, but you know, blood is thicker than water. You _and _Adam, huh? My sister told me the most unlikely collaboration to happen, actually, and I just had to fly over to GC to witness myself to watch for myself. I'm just a spectator."

"It was a business decision. The alternative wasn't sustainable."

"Is Adam as your COO sustainable when he can usurp your throne anytime?"

Her tone was saccharine sweet, dripping with feigned surprise, "Oh, my hero. How kind of you to worry. I'm not scared of Maeve's wrath if you came to warn me…" Victoria trailed off and stared at Henry, meeting him square in the eye. She tossed her head back as she drained the last of her champagne. She set the flute down, and as a kind of silence lingered. There was a heartbeat or two. She held his gaze as if she had to hold it the longest out of principle. Then remembering Lundgren, Billy, Adam, her father and on some level, Amanda Sinclair as an indirect intruder of her universe, Victoria's ice started to melt and there was a burning in her stomach until her vision exploded in a sea of vermillion. "As for worrying about who will stab who…" she started, striking the flute against the surface of the counter until Henry found himself shocked by the shards of glass underneath his cool exterior. She picked up stem of the flute, the end of it jagged and sharp enough to cut flesh. "Handle your family matters, and I will handle mine. Handle Maeve or _I_ will."

She was drunk, and enraged and wanted to leave. Her head pounded and for a quick moment, Victoria felt the outline of her keys in her purse. _No, you absolutely cannot drink and drive. Reed did this. Cassie died doing this. It's insane. You're out of control. _Victoria used the counter to steady herself and couldn't remember what Henry said to her but it was full of genuine concern. All she threw back at him was poison and acid.

"Go back to Pennsylvania, save lives. I don't respond kindly to threats even from heroic firefighters."

"None intended. Just…" Henry's eyes had a warning in them. They softened. "Just be careful. Maeve plays dirty."

"I play dirtier. I'm a Newman, in case you've forgotten. Goodnight, Henry," Victoria said, simply, unaffected, turned on her heel and stalked off. She would crush Maeve McLaren like a roach and not even blink. In case Adam did cross her – because he was who he was and as she learned, natural instinct couldn't be fought no matter the number of attempts made – she would send her brother to Nevada's Death Row quicker than anyone could say _Viva Las Vegas _and her father thundering with disapproval.

Her hands curled into fists, her nails pressing into her palms. Victoria walked away, remnants of alcohol in her veins and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth from biting her tongue.

—

Valentina Moretti settled in her empty penthouse in a part of time where her neighbours did not know her. She was finding her way in a town that could have been Mercury for all she knew. She was of English and Italian blood, but never quite found a place to settle until she met another soul lost in this ether called life like her. Lorenzo Mancini. Valentina was living by no alias, or no broken past. Nothing dark, and tragedy was subjective. Her father was a lovely, kind-hearted man yet naïve man – her grandparents had immigrated from Naples, although her family ancestry had origins in Modena, with her father yet to be born, uncles and aunt found solid ground on the shores of London – while her mother was an English woman with her special kind of cruelty.

Perhaps, it was because Valentina was the only child to come of her parents' union after years of infertility. Maybe it was because her mother wished for a mild-mannered daughter with dreams of marriage and children in her eyes instead of who she got. A strong-willed child who was independent and sought to leave home as soon as she was able. A daughter who liked children well enough, but did not want to bring one into the world herself. She had wealth, been able to be educated at the most prestigious schools, and did well at the university well enough. Valentina had been born out of a loveless marriage. She knew of that. When she was old enough, Valentina grew privy to the disintegration of a union that was not strong to begin with. Her father always greeted her warmly when she went home. When Valentina came by, her mother was chilly. It was what it was.

Valentina had a privileged life, but became aware of things at a young age between her parents. While her father wanted her to have a normal life, and have childhood experiences, her mother wanted her to go off to boarding school in another part of the country for character building. Not many things stunned her, but Valentina recalled her gentle giant of a father in an argument with her mother. She often wondered when Mother would sprout live serpents from her head so those withering looks with the capability to turn someone to stone would make sense.

Her father, in uncharacteristic anger, had slapped her mother. Mother stared in surprise, holding her cheek before she narrowed her slate grey eyes, tone in quiet anger.

"_You slapped me, Edoardo."_

Valentina watched her father, a hint remorseful but resolute_. "You will not speak ill of Rachel in my presence! I will not have Valentina shipped off to a boarding school because it is what you wish. I am her father, Alexandra!"_ he roared, fist hitting the table. _"It is my decision to make."_

Her mother was a blank slate, her features severe and Valentina remembered being fearful. Sweaty hands. Trembling. The feeling of nausea that came with her mother being angry, and taking it out on her. Even now, decades later with her father being deceased, Valentina recalled her mother's talon like nails digging into her arm. The criticism a little girl didn't understand but strived to fix. The way it hurt a little more as her mother brushed her hair with a hundred strokes. Valentina could still hear the detached counting in her mind.

"_What burns you more? Longing for your American whore and her bastard or being tied to me and reliving how repulsed you were to touch me the night Valentina was conceived?" _

"_No, no, no. No! __I am repulsed by you! Only you. Valentina is the one of the greatest treasures to come from that night. She is everything good in this world, and my child… that innocent child you despise so much is a beautiful soul. The only thing I regret is not taking Valentina to Naples and marrying who I really loved!" _

Alexandra, according to Valentina's reflection even now, looked human. Her mother looked hurt, almost cut to the quick and maybe… just maybe, she had a soul. Maybe she did love Father and she merely behaved, reacting the way a scorned lover was. Valentina, now, knew her mother was neither a lover or a wife. She was a proud woman who learned to love a man until her mother ran out of lessons. To her father's dying breath, Valentina watched her mother become this hollowed out version of herself. She had returned for her father's last days in the middle of living her life independent of all reminders of her childhood. Just the small ones that locked in her heart. There was the funeral with his remains buried in the Moretti family crypt with his white ivory, marble and gold. He had died with a loathing toward her mother she didn't understand until she held his hand, clammy and shaking. She remembered, greeting him, ashamed to find tears in her eyes.

They talked. Laughed. Shared memories before having one of those serious, heavy conservations before the end came. Father had told her everything, everything Mother did not or kept to herself. She was to meet Enzo in Rome and then Saint-Tropez for one reason or another, but that did not matter. Edoardo dissolved into hearty laughter from the soul, and she found herself tearful again.

"_I am sorry, Father,"_ she apologized, and then grew annoyed when he dissolved into dry cough and frowned, lightly wiping the sweat from his brow with a damp cloth gently. She asked if that was better and he smiled her, grateful. _"Where are those damn doctors?"_

"_Ah. Do not worry. I am where I need to be. My daughter has come home,"_ he replied, once he had recovered. He looked at her with glassy hazel eyes full of peace with an undertone of regret and sorrow. He took her hand, the one that rested on his chest and put his weathered one over it. _"Valentina, I have lived a good, full life. I have had the honour of hard work, the privilege of being your father and…knowing what love is."_

"…_with this Rachel?" _

"_Yes. I loved her, and when I had received word she had passed, a small part of my heart went with her. I always made sure the child was well, taken care of but always from afar. I have sorted out my estate. The assets, the houses, the properties, all of my wealth,"_ he explained. _"I have had the lawyers to take care, according to my wishes. Your mother…"_ he sighed, glancing at his hand with the gold wedding band as if it was a shackle. _"I took care of her as my duty as her husband. I only regret that I could say goodbye when Rachel died. I was aware of her sickness and did everything I could to slow her cancer… or dream as she did, and find a cure, but I could not." _

A tear slipped down his face, and Valentina wiped it away. She called sharply for a nurse. One scurried in, obediently adjusted the curtains so there was just enough sunshine with a colourful view of the compound's and Naples skyline in his view. Mount Vesuvius stood proud and dominant yet quiet not wishing to cause another Pompeii. Lucy sighed, rolling over in her bed, her bedroom the only parts of her penthouse suite fully made up. She wished to sleep and felt like it evaded her. Lucy sat up on bed and opened her nightside table, revealing a few trinkets, some framed pictures she did not know what to do with. Revealing a medium manila envelope, Valentina flipped the top flap effortlessly. She pulled out the legal document, and her hazel eyes scanned it just as she had before.

"_Find her. My only regret that I did not go everything I could to do protect my child after Rachel died. I thought I had known everything, but I did not know how her memory worked,"_ her father revealed with an anger in his face. Even while dying, her father was more animated than ever and looked as if he might leap out of his bed, literally roaring back to life just to choke the life out of an adversary's hands before he left his earthly bonds. This part of his story stunned, even someone as morally…flexible as her. She remembered her father's amused chuckle, even as if she was surprised. _"She found me. Here. I was in New York that weekend and had no way of knowing she was even looking. Her mother was dead. She was fifteen, far too young to be alone… I did what I could, but your mother…" _

"_What did Mother do?"_

"_The girl found me and right on this doorstep, your mother turned that child away. I did not think Alexandra had the capacity to do this, but your mother is an evil woman right down to the soul. She turned my daughter away so she never knew her father…"_ he revealed, crying as freely as his heartbreak would allow. She was long gone from home and made the occasional return home, but remembered her father living as if a piece of soul had been taken away from him and he could not get it back. In other ways, it had been something like that. _"Your mother told that girl she had the wrong place. Alexandra took the little bit of hope she had and crushed it by telling her that her father did not exist and got great joy in telling me so. It was either everything I had, or my daughter. I could not have both." _

Valentina, of course, did not believe her father to be one for taking terms of another even if the other party was his wife. He did not. Edoardo Moretti was a man who always believed to have more than just a Plan A and a Plan B. In the end, her father did die peacefully with her by his side, and through several legal maneuvers airtight in the eyes of Italian, English and American law, Valentina was made care taker of her father's estate. As such, she was in charge of the family's glass-making enterprise. Her father had started making and creating glass for the common man's home and elaborate stained glass windows in churches. It had started small and grown to be something big until it was a multimillion-dollar business with power of architecture. Her father was a builder by nature and in practice and when he had passed away, he had given everything to her keep safe.

Valentina remembered the contents of this will, how it was dispersed among loyal lifelong employees, trust advisors and various relatives. She remembered how that day rained incessantly and when it came to what her mother received, there had been nothing. Edorado had bought Rachel's house and ordered it be maintained and kept until the child between them was of age, but Valentina realized her sister had been there and vanished.

Her mother had laughed as if this was a joke and then sensing that it was, reacted in uncharacteristic rage so frightening, Valentina was forced to restrain her and pull her out into the secluded foyer. Alexandra paced her black dress as if she was a wild animal, muttering to herself and wondered what was next, but then turned to her like she was such saviour.

"_Darling, you can undo the damage. You won't let your father do this to me and leave me with nothing. I am your mother. Valentina, I know you will do the right thing." _

"_I am doing the right thing, Mother,"_ Valentina remembered herself saying with a hard finality. Her mother went to touch her and she sharply slapped her hand away. _"No!"_ she hissed, pointing a slender finger in her direction. Rage with grief ignited in her hazel eyes. She cleared her throat to push the tears back. _"No… I'm going to do as Father asked. I will take care of his legacy, and fix the damage you created!"_

Valentina collected herself, and tucked a lock of her blond hair. Thunder sounded and it startled them both. She exhaled. _"You were left with the London house, with a one time lump sum payment of $10 million. Get out of my father's house, Alexandra,"_ she sneered, referring to her mother by her first name, both comfortable and strange. In that moment, she'd become an orphan. "_I will miss everything about that man until my dying day, but you… As soon as I leave here, I will bury you and forget you ever existed."_

She had a sister, and there was a sincerity in her father's eyes when he had told her of the sister she had but never knew. Sister. Valentina Moretti had another relative. Another piece of her father out there in the world. For the father of her father's soul and her own need to know and find this piece of her family tapestry, Valentina left Europe with her legal rights of the executor of the Edoardo Estate, the loss of a mother who was never really was one to begin with. When she did get back, Enzo did not ask questions but simply offered condolences and agreed to having Moretti Glass & Architecture being a subsidiary of Mancini International for a stake in the conglomerate as a whole. Enzo merely gazed at her, a host of questions and answers passing, between them before he agreed. Then he softened, kissed her cheek, and said, _"I know what it is like to have death steal from you. I wish I could take that unbearable pain away from you." _

She straightened his lapel with a barely seen smile, not yet ready to stop wearing black just yet. _"Mmmm,"_ she'd replied, thinking it over. It was part serious, part humour. Ambiguity between them was always the best feature of their relationship. Kept things interesting, _"We'll see."_

That was a decade ago. The object of her search was fifteen at the time, but had to be young, mid-twenties now. Enzo agreed because they had been more than friends, but never really much more than confidantes. They were two people in the same space and understood that sometimes, there was a time to speak and time to be silent. Understanding passed between them either way. _A buon intenditor poche parole._ Few words are needed for a good listener as the old proverb said. People thought she was his wife, his assistant, his paramour and sometimes, his sister. Wife? No. His assistant? Absolutely not. They were more partners, equals and she respected him. She took care of her father's company to give it a double layer of protection and it grew profitable, quarter by quarter, year by year.

Genoa City was a place she was not accustomed to, partly because she had not known anyone yet. She did not need to make friends, did not need to find anyone to bond with because that was Enzo's modus operandi. He was like young Roman warrior on the brink of conquest to expand all that he ruled. The Roman general had evolved into a Roman emperor who needed his empire in a new location and an empress at his side. Never mind that Victoria was a powerful woman in her own right with her own kingdom to tend over, but she found herself laughing at all the way Enzo would pursue her. The man protected his heart, sure, but left some parts of it exposed so Valentina knew of his humanity.

To get her mind over a decade old nagging somewhere in her soul by now, Valentina had agreed to screen the newest prospect for the media division of Mancini International. It was a fringe division somewhere in the landscape. Billy Abbott was Victoria's current partner with two young children between them. She had read up on him and immediately grew concerned and confused. He had the blood of Jabot Cosmetics in his veins, was a restaurateur, was the owner of a highly successful magazine. It meant that he was a creative man, and getting to meet him, her assessment was correct. There were alarms that rang in her mind. He was a gambler, had poor impulse control and while she did not mind anyone's darkness – it made life interesting—it wasn't suitable for a clear head and razor sharp focus. A person could have been built with sharp instinct, but without just the right amount of restraint, they were liabilities. Grave liabilities. Billy was a liability, but as long they could emphasize his unbridled creativity, and a certain rawness that made his out-of-the-box thinking advantageous, Valentina did not care.

She exhaled, pulling out an old faded picture of an infant, then the same child as a toddler, a five-year-old who posed for the camera in a pink dress, white flats and a pink bow in her rich brown – as if the colour of chocolate – hair. Valentina squinted and could see her father's smile, and found herself touching her ear. The ones she inherited from her father as well. The girl frozen by time and photography had wide green eyes that looked joyful, both mischievous and innocent, freckles on her face. It seemed like she was illuminated by the sun.

Valentina flipped the back of the first photo of the bundle wrapped up in pink. A baby with rosy cheeks and her eyes wide, pink lips, blue ink faded from years and time. She did not recognize the writing as her father's. It was in a soft cursive hand.

A name.

"Lucy."

While Enzo came to Genoa City, his focus was reclaiming lost love.

It seemed questioning what Genoa City had to offer her was a mistake because her half-sister – her sister had been here all along. After a decade, Valentina Moretti was going to be offered the gift of family and sisterhood. Whatever that meant. She had no expectations.

Valentina pulled her knees up underneath her duvet, turned her head toward her window with a sky full of stars. As she had done with Father was on a trip, her hazel eyes went skyward to a tapestry of stars and hoped the one that sparkled brighter than the rest was her father, looking down at her proud and finally, happy at rest.

—

Victoria should have left a long time ago. In an ideal world, she wouldn't have gotten this drunk. She wouldn't have gotten drunk at all.

No, she wasn't as tipsy as she thought and did not know how she managed to walk out and make it to this main bar area of the Grand Phoenix. She asked for her jacket, clumsily slipped that on and perched herself on the bar stool, hoping to sober up with coffee and time. Driving was out of the question. Calling Billy was familiar and she anticipated he would come by, tease her about her being unable to handle her liquor before he carried her bridal style out to the car.

There was so much wrong with that scenario. Billy couldn't possibly leave the kids by themselves. Not again. The first time still made her shudder even though it was out of his control. Besides, Victoria was aware that she had left him tonight on the chilliest of terms. Little things with him set her off. One word or phrase could become a detonator. It wasn't just Billy. It was anyone who said something to rub her the wrong way. Billy wanted to know about Florence, about Enzo, and yes, she suggested he call Ashley, but it wasn't his business to know. He didn't have the right to ask. She could have called Nick to come get her and he would with no questions asked, but Victoria felt bad imposing more than she had on her brother. She'd cried enough on his couch and his shoulder. Victoria had taken up too much space in his life, she felt, and it wasn't fair. Nick was her best friend, but even best friends need distance sometimes. Victoria remembered he had a press conference tonight and she had missed it, which made her feel worse.

As much as she loved her mother, Victoria would never call her. She loved her more than words could possibly say but in her mother's eyes, she would be fragile and to her father, this would look weak to him. They never talked about it, but Victoria always felt it. She always felt that he was ashamed of her because she had been the victim of domestic abuse or anyone's victim, really. Victoria could have even called Abby. She was upstairs and it was nice to have her sister back with no tension between them. Abby would have listened to her, and hugged her as warmly as she did when her pregnancy with Katie was so uncertain.

She had been incredibly lonely back then, scared for her future, scared for the survival of a baby she was scared to fall in love with. Victoria felt that loneliness came back, but five years later, there was no pregnancy she could use as a buffer. At home, Victoria was the perfect partner, was the best mother, went to therapy and came back to find herself sobbing when the shower was loud enough to mask it. Victoria did her best to communicate with Reed and was happy to get a glimpse into his world. Social circles she had been part of her whole life didn't look as appealing to her, and it was never the other party's fault. It was always her needing to go. She needed to get away. Traci was a lovely person, and Jack had known her, it seemed, forever, but in the middle of dinner at their house, Victoria found herself politely excusing herself to leave. Something her mother needed. Something that had come up at the house. Something that had come up at Newman Enterprises. Or, she simply needed air.

Cold air always made her feel better. _One of the perks of being an ice princess_, she'd joked, kissed Billy to reassure him she was fine before grabbing her jacket and scarf. It was on one of these occasions that Traci had found her. Traci was as big hearted and as warm as everyone said she was. She didn't say much but with kind, empathizing eyes, she'd said she was sorry. Billy was her little brother. She loved him, and wasn't without his flaws, but as a woman, knew what it was like to be shoved aside. By family members. By Dina. On some level, John. Every man she'd been with. So, Traci said taking her gloved hand in her own, said she was so sorry she was hurt.

Other days, Victoria found herself at Newman later than she anticipated. Sometimes, the reasons were her lateness were legitimate. One deal to work through and a contract to look over with a fine toothed comb. An acquisition that she thought looked good for Newman and from a purely business standpoint, needed Adam's opinion on it. She'd already have her perspective on things and understand the pros and cons. He'd give it and then leave her be with his own work to do, leaving the long list of bad history behind them. They both wanted what was best for Newman. She had to find some way to make this work. If Adam can put his stuff aside, she would do the same. Her life was exhausting as is, and for once, Adam wasn't the dominant source of her emotional, mental exhaustion. Even if he was, Victoria expected it and knew how to prepare herself. She only saw glimpses in normalcy in him when Connor was involved. Even parenthood could bring out the human in the monster.

Victoria missed her children and wanted to leave and spend the whole night, watching them sleep. Too be young and knowing nothing of how cruel the world was, was a gift. Victoria would tell them everything was going to be okay. Everything would be fine and feel the deceit like a foul stench afterward. Victoria exhaled, as if releasing something she had been holding on to with a death grip, and stared into the glass of 2005 Masseto Toscana.

Alcohol to compliment more alcohol. This made sense. She remembered this wine well for more than the vintage with its aromas of black cheery, delicate chocolate and the hint of hazelnut. The bar tender had been wary to pour her a glass, but her icy glare quickly changed that resolve. Victoria swirled the wine gently enough to catch the aroma and should be stronger in her resolve to resist, but was instantly taken back to Italy. Victoria was thrown back into a time where it was just him and her, how he'd look at her from a distance and there would be instant combustible chemistry. Victoria should have remembered warm Jamaican rum in her veins, sand between her toes, and doing the limbo on the beach, but it was so far away from her.

For a brief moment, Victoria recall days at her between galleries and museums and the art history lectures at the Accademia D'Arte Firenze in the Guggenheim Program. She'd also volunteered at a convent. It was a peaceful environment and different from the chaos she had grown up and thrived in – she was still cool under pressure, after all. She wasn't religious, but the sisters at the convent were lovely women who taught her to examine the world upside down, through a pair of eyes not her own. They had challenged her when she did not think of herself as philosopher.

Sabrina was the only one who had known of Enzo, all that he had meant to her, how he had saved her from thinking of Florence as just another place to bury herself in. It was living and breathing all around her, a place where past and present lived as comfortable long time neighbours. Strangers became friends. Sometimes, you found that one person who remained the constant in every experience, and Victoria did make friends. There was room for this passion and talent for art she did not know existed and 15 years later, missed. Sabrina had been her dearest friend in Florence, the only one she trusted with everything Lorenzo Mancini. Things had been warm in Florence, but by the time, they had reconnected in Genoa City, Victoria was married with a young child, far removed from Enzo three years after the painful fact, and she wasn't okay with her friend becoming her stepmother. Victoria still thought of her in passing and was thankful she had mended things with her before her passing.

"I thought JT was a good guy, but I'm sorry to say, he's really judgemental," Sabrina had told her, bluntly. Victoria remembered offense welling up in her. What was wrong with a husband defending his wife? That did not equate to judgment and Sabrina was out of line.

"Excuse me?"

Sabrina sighed, gazing at her as if the final strings of their friendship had been severed. "JT has no right to attack me because I fell in love with Victor. Neither do you for that matter. It just hurts that it has come to this because the person I met in Florence never would have," she added, moving to leave her home but she paused at the door. "Lorenzo would have never attacked me like this either. He was far too honourable for that."

Enzo would have never. Enzo wouldn't have. Enzo would have.

The reality was, she didn't know what he would or would not have done. She only knew how intense and passionate things were between them. Victoria only remembered her nights with him began with dinner, wine on her apartment balcony. She only recalled how he'd touch her, kiss her, caress her, how he was both gentle and rough when they made love as silvery moonlight streamed in. Then she'd fall asleep, completely blissful and fulfilled, selfishly wishing for nothing more but this. This state of being where Victoria floated in this area of pure euphoria and a love she had not felt or known since Ryan.

It was the champagne, compounded with the wine she had finished by now, but Victoria even remembered the scent of his cologne. She reached up and rubbed her head like there would quicken her journey to sobriety because surely, she had to be having some kind of auditory hallucination. That's what she deserved for drifting into the past instead of focusing on the present. If she was having some sort of nervous breakdown, she needed it to stop and then she'd scheduled an appointment with her therapist in the morning if that was the cause. It had to be an apparition, a ghost completed with rattling chains straight out of a Dickens novel. Then Victoria heard him, clearly. His voice was as it always sounded: deep, rich and smooth with a slight accented undertone and it touched her in a place she had kept locked up away from most people.

Victoria was fighting now. She was fighting to push the drunkenness away, trying to keep her feet on the ground. She had been seeking an escape of sorts, trying to distance herself from her life and its stressors until there was another day of grinning and bearing until she snuck away for a cigarette break. How she craved one at this very point and how irritated she had gotten when Billy, of all people, had the audacity to ask her when had smoking had been her thing. _When my life got too exhausting, and nicotine helped, Billy. That's when. Excuse me. I have somewhere to be. _When the fog cleared, she'd apologized for being unfair. She got tired. She got frustrated, and after having to moderate how much she had the right to feel, it was hard feeling many things all at once. It was still possible to feel lonely even with all the support in the world.

Heart racing, and her head spinning, Victoria counted to three. On three, she would be alone. On three, she would call an Uber and somehow stumble up driveway, miraculously open the door to her own house and fall asleep on her couch in another day, another clean slate with a hangover she will manage because the world won't stop for her or be kind. Surely, the boardroom won't. But on three, none of these things happened. She wasn't alone or suffering a nervous breakdown. Enzo would have been in Genoa City because of Billy's new job, but she never thought she'd be staring up at that face, into those eyes again. Every protest she had died on her lips and there was nothing but him, her, and everything between them unfurling like a roll of film of photographs never quite developed.

"Hello, dolcezza."

Victoria stared, something in her memory being jogged. It had always been scratching beneath the surface of her consciousness. While she was asleep, he was always in the periphery pushing his way to the forefront. Since Billy had been excited and energized about this new chapter professionally, he had pushed her again. Not to recall the ups and down of their adventure of smooth waters and choppy seas alike, but one where Victoria was forced to stare into the bottom of the Arno River, its surface sparkling like glass and diamonds alike. Victoria remembered drawing that face on an easel in her mind. She knew its lines and its shape. She could memorize the deep set eyes, blue and piercing. She knew how he styled his dark hair and how at times, he'd be asleep and his hair was disheveled. Years gave his hair salt and pepper now and his face had a wisdom about it and yet she had that unchanged wicked in his eye that made him youthful. There was still his charisma and magnetism, air still powerful with a charged energy that crackled between him.

His mouth curled into a knowing smirk, as he slid into the stool next to her. His eyes were filled with nostalgia, a spark of desire and so much affection, it overwhelmed her.

"Enzo," she managed to speak and hated that she sounded stunned. That was the downside to letting her inhibitions fly, even for a night. It was hard to wrangle them and lock them back in the back. Of course, she knew what he was doing here in Genoa City. Still, there was that frustrated, tired woman who had picked a random place on the globe, and found that her slender finger rested on the ankle of a boot-shaped European country, nestled four ways between France, Austria, Switzerland and Slovenia. She was still the woman who needed a place to rest, and the universe had made her that way again. It felt familiar: a gnawing in her gut, a feeling of being suffocated, the weight of her exhaustion, and how she free fell with no place to land. Victoria blinked at him, the question tumbling out of her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled softly at her and touched her face, thumb caressing her cheek. His touch was if he was seeing something precious, and Enzo spoke as if he hadn't heard her question. "You're even more beautiful in person. How is that possible?"

The intensity of his gaze and the heat of his touch was too much.

Victoria felt her throat catch and she pulled away from his hand. Her cheek was still warm and tears nearly sprang to her eyes, but she straightened herself as well as a drunk person could in her seat, pushing them away. "What are you doing here?" she asked, again, narrowing her eyes. Victoria didn't have to have a mirror to know her nicely brushed hair was tousled and disheveled.

"Business opportunity."

"I'm sure you are."

She rolled her eyes with a frown on her lips, and shook her head. Victoria had put everything in the past, but when she did lock gazes with him, she saw it all. In those azure depths, she saw their past and the future that could have been – that should have been had one moment that altered the course of many lives, _including_ hers. Slow dancing in the Sistine Chapel underneath the expansive ceiling Michaelangelo painted centuries before with music only they could hear.

Making love with tenderness and reckless abandon at all once as stars littered the sky above the Florence skyline. Waking up together as the sun arose and church bells rang in the distance.

Victoria broke first, overcome and needed to go home. Yes, she was drunk, but it would be easy to call an Uber. She would take another car in the morning to pick up hers.

Clearing her throat, Victoria rooted through her purse, paid for the wine and move off the stool. She swayed slightly on unsettled feet and before Victoria could negotiate the distance from here to her car, she found herself about to pass out. The Dom Perignon champagne, fruit infused cocktails, and the wine with the 2005 vintage had finally gotten to her. Victoria felt herself start to fall, there was Enzo with his quick reflexes up before she could think or formulate a retort. He steadied her by the waist and without even thinking, Victoria found herself settled in his arms. Her hands settled on his chest and she stupidly blushed. Whether her embarrassment or remembering what it felt like in his arms even like this, she did not know.

All she knew were three things for sure: she had to go home to Billy and the children, she was drunk and the universe thought now was the time to have her quite literally fall into the arms of another man. Another man who was her ex. Another man who had known her deep desires and marked her in ways that touched the soul. Another man she had loved and lost.

"Ah, Victoria, you have not changed in this regard," Enzo chuckled, eyes twinkling in amusement. He teased her, but was gentle about it. Her hair had fallen in her face and there he went, brushing it away. "You can do many things, but still cannot handle your alcohol."

She would have protested and on instinct, opened her mouth to do so, but couldn't.

"It's not like the time we went wine tasting. Not my fault all the wine was so damn good."

"I never said it was, _cara_," he replied with a soft laugh , and grew quiet as if pondering something before he spoke again. Victoria noted that he was also the same. He had a lightning fast mind with the ability to make decisions before the rest of the world around him caught up. "Allow me to take you home. _My_ home. I purchased and renovated it while still in Florence making final preparations," he explained while he gently put her back on the stool. She appreciated that quietly, and for reading her accurately than most these days. "But yes, I have a home here. I did not feel it was necessary to have a room here."

"Enzo, I'm intoxicated. I need to go home. Billy is asleep and our young children. They…" she trailed off, and grew angry with herself. "I have to go be with them. You've always been good to me and I've never forgotten, but I'm someone's partner. I'm… a mother. My responsibility is to get home to them. Some sleep, and coffee in the morning and I'll sober up."

"One thing I've learned is to never argue with you. Even though I was foolish enough to do that," he looked at her seriously. "We did that with each other."

"Yes. We did. It's not wrong to have convictions."

Enzo smiled, gently at her. "On this, I agree. Which is why, I'm going to be honest with you. I can let you go home. Figure it out like I know you will because you're you and you're also incredibly resilient. I have no ulterior motives here," Enzo crossed his heart, "and I'm not seeking to rescue you. However, you know that I have strong convictions as well. Because of this, I need you to understand I'm coming from a place of human decency. I will make sure your car is safe," he took her hands in his, running a thumb over the knuckles like he always did. There was a sincerity in his eyes even though Victoria saw the grief in them as well. "I will feel a lot of better knowing you are safe. You need a place to rest, Victoria, even if it's just for a few hours."

She was sure there was no hiding the sadness in her eyes when it just buried to the rest of the world. It always forced her to acknowledge it, but Victoria always resisted. The sadness felt like a tight article of clothing she could not shake off. It wasn't impossible, just difficult. Sometimes, Victoria was stumbling in the dark, tripping over obstacles she swore were not here. Other times, her depression suffocated her until she became frazzled, angry and insistent that she was fine. Other days, Victoria walked around numb and the only person who didn't ask her anything was Adam. All Victoria wanted was her footing, her balance, and her clarity. Victoria wanted to take her sanity from falling away, piece by piece but it seemed certain people came into her life and slowly chipped away at it. People who loved her entered her life as freely as one would with a revolving car only to shove her into a trap door. Certainly, she hadn't inherited her mother's alcoholism, but she knew she had a need for complete control, which for better or for worse, had been bestowed upon her by her father. For a few hours tonight, as drunk as she was, that's how she felt. In control.

Like most temporary things in life, Victoria felt the haze lift. Sobriety was creeping in and the hangover would be imminent. A tear slipped out and rolled down her cheek. God, she was spent. Maybe she did need to stop, breathe, and rest. It wasn't Florence, but Victoria felt safe. She had safer with Enzo in minutes than she had with anyone else in months. Her head told her this was crazy. This was trouble and it would be a disaster. Her heart said it was too battered and bruised and needed some way to heal itself. So, Victoria wiped at another tear, aware of how Enzo's hands still fit hers and her strength of her resolve in deciding what to do next.

"Okay," Victoria said, softly and nodded, with a weary smile. "I'll go home with you. I'm really tired."

Enzo beamed at her, and kissed the back of her hands.

"Alright," he pulled her gently to him, his arm never loosening on her as the short walk to the parking from the entrance to the parking lot seemed like forever. "It's okay," he whispered in her hair, making a shiver going down her back. They were both wearing coats and as he safely got her in and as Enzo buckled her seatbelt, Victoria reached out and touched his scarf. Grey. Cashmere. She had bought this for him as a birthday gift. _For when I get to show you my home. It'll come in handy for those Wisconsin winters. _

"You still have it…" Victoria pointed out, her voice thick with incoming sleep.

"Yes," Enzo replied with a half-smile, his own voice soft with nostalgia and reminiscence. "It does help me greatly in unforgiving winters and cold, after all. I treasure this greatly."

Victoria left the Grand Phoenix with Enzo with the feeling of a knot tied several times loose. She might have thanked him. She didn't remember it but still, the gratitude was all the same. Victoria rested her head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, heard the roar of the car engine before it was a gentle hum and the car smoothly travelled down the Genoa City freeways. Headlights of cars behind and tail lights of cars in front because blurs of yellow and blobs of red.

As Victoria gave herself over to sleep in Enzo's car, she dreamt of the Tuscan sunlight on her face in the morning and be entranced by the fireflies and their dancing lights against the dark as Victoria walked Enzo hand-in-hand with through Francesca's garden in the evenings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Victoria was fine. She felt herself come to the realization that she was at rest, physically and for a time mentally. The engagement was the lifetime she needed. The last threads of her fatigue thinned out and she groaned as the headache that hung somewhere between her regular tension headache brought on by regular stresses of work, children and being a functioning member of society with internal and external factors. A curtain of her hair fell in her face as she woke up in a bed that was comfortable, king sized and missing the Billy shaped imprints in half of her. Then with a jolt of memory and prick of panic, Victoria remembered the fuzzy tail end of the night. Fruity cocktails with a man who was attractive yet ambiguous. Yes, Victoria would have slit his throat with that champagne flute if not for the restraint she'd built over the years. Fifty-thousand-dollar wine. Izzy drunk beyond normal reasoning and prone to being honest. Dancing until her feet started to hurt before Enzo materialized like the Ghost of Lovers Past right into her present.

She had her clothes on so nothing between them had happened. For all the years Victoria had been without him, she knew Enzo to be respectful in that regardless with any woman. Even if in her drunkenness, she had wanted to sleep with him to fill some hollow space inside her, Victoria knew she would be denied. Her eyes slowly but surely adjusted in the dark and she reached over to turn on the lamp. When she did, Victoria gasped. It illuminated the room in a dim yet warm light. The lamp was the colour of a weathered seashell with a precious pearl inside. It was a room of mauves, lavenders and purples with the occasional black and ivory – rather, a whole guest suite of with a sleek décor that could have worked with the touch of a painting here or a small sculpture.

Her priority was to get to freshen up, thank Enzo and somehow get herself home. She was hungover and late enough for there to be another conversation where no one wanted to tiptoe the obvious. Even more obvious was the fact that Victoria missed her children right down to the way they'd stand in the doorway of the master bedroom asking for water until they just wanted to sleep in the space between her and Billy. Billy would smile at her with bleary eyes and disheveled her before she relented, and settled her children in between them. To have her family underneath the covers was her happiness. It was the place between heart and home and for a while, a ceasefire brokered and remembering what the journey – good, bad and monstrous – had been for.

Now…now, Victoria found herself in this beautiful, spacious room. Her shoes neatly were lined by the door, her clutch set on the desk and her coat over the hook on the back of the door.

Victoria pulled back to the soft duvet, swung her bare feet over the bed to set her feet on the ground. All she wanted to do was freshen up, splash some water on her face and reapply her natural makeup before morning light broke and blanketed Genoa City in its glow. Well, not if the clouds hid the sun first. She preferred there be a bite in the air especially in winter instead. She was sure her phone was turned off, and in her purse. Her purse carried everything she would need in case she was to become hungover.

One of those mini disposable toothbrushes she always carried around, just because. Nick and Billy took turns laughing at her for being too overly organized. _You're the only one who would plan for an apocalyptic event no one else saw coming but you, Vick_. Even in the dark, she couldn't help but allow a smile to come to her lips. However, the reality was she needed to be awake, and set about to take steps to feel like herself.

Victoria dug into her purse, did a quick scan of the contents of her purse.

"Mini toothbrush, make-up remover…" she reviewed, just like she would her agenda for the day with Lucy after the warm greetings, a hug, and a check in over coffee tea and sweet tea in the Newman break room. She continued, aware of time and where she continued to run down what she needed. It made her head and she winced from the sharpness. "Comb, make-up, gloss."

She found her phone, powered it on. The dark screen was illuminated with the signature white glowing apple before she was greeted with the familiar home screen.

75 percent charged.

News alerts vibrated as if to welcome back into the real world of sober, existing people.

"Nicholas Newman, son of corporate titan, throws hat in the ring for Genoa City's top job," she read quietly, and felt pride only an older sister could feel.

The chubby toddler who just had learned to walk, had discovered a variation of her name as his first real world, and the same child who had stolen her moment to blow out her birthday cake to stick a hand in her chocolate cake and help himself, was the man and father finally going into a career path that fit his niche. Mayor of Genoa City. She only did work with survivors of domestic abuse, and did work with organizations and larger agencies beyond endorsing a cheque. It was hard. It was hard to do the kind of community work that made her immerse herself in life experience that made her look inward. It was difficult, but it was absolutely rewarding.

At first, Victoria did not want to go into support groups that had people that were nice and supportive well enough. As she slowly developed the courage to go into one group, sit, and listen, it made Victoria feel sad. Something like this did not discriminate or spare a person because they were richer, powerful with every advantage at their disposal with a supportive family or a strong circle of friends. Others had nothing and no one.

Watching Nick reach out to others on a personal, human level while his work with the philanthropy branch of Newman Enterprises and New Hope, he made it effortless. She watched a new fire ignited in him, a spark of renewed ambitions in his eyes. It was a hard decision for Nick to let go of his city council campaign, but she knew Nick could not let the idea of entering the political arena go.

Victoria relished in being right. Obviously, her Big Sister Senses never failed her.

With the pride came sadness, she had missed his press conference. She, who watched over him, watched as he took his first careful steps and became his first word, had missed this introduction to this new chapter in Nick's life. Nick would not have blamed for it and told her not to feel bad, but she did anyway. She sniffled quietly and got rid of the tears that threatened to fall but did not allow to fall.

Victoria was wide awake and sober now with a new goal… or in this case, several. When she made multiple plans, her rule was to start with what was realistic first.

She glanced at her phone and it told her it was 4:30 in the morning.

"Okay, Victoria. You got drunk at an engagement party, but it was Thea's and you were happy," she told herself and exhaled deeply the way she was instructed in therapy. Inhale through the nose. Hold for seven seconds. Exhale. Release through the mouth for eight seconds. Fifteen precious seconds to hit the reset button. "I'm going to freshen up in my ex's mansion," she frowned at how that sounded, "and leave. Just thank Enzo and leave."

That's it. She was going to freshen up, talk to Enzo before thanking him because it was the decent thing to do, and do something like writing up a statement to get to Elaine in PR.

That was enough, for now. She had the day to figure the rest out.

—

His mother used to say he was born at home when night was darkest and the most silent.

Maybe that's why he was never quite the man to adapt to regular scheduling, why his mind naturally spun at night whether it was with unhealthy recurring thoughts that pushed him backward or new innovative thoughts to push things in his life forward. Enzo saw his mind as a machine that never rested. He wanted Mancini International to flourish in the North American markets, while he was pleased the hold it maintained at the upper echelon of European commerce as a Medici always did. Enzo knew he was a selfish man and never shied away from that, because nobody ever did anything truly altruistic.

Of course, here came Victoria Newman to upend that selfish because he was keeping her out of a sense of human decency. He took care to see Victoria at her most raw because he never would see it with her sober. Victoria let him guide her through the moments of sadness, anger and despair that seemed to well up after straining behind some emotional dam. It reminded him of the way a thunderstorm would arrive with a bang, forgetting the whimper altogether. Fresh tears fell as she chided herself for crying in the first place, and his heart broke a little bit. It wasn't pitying, but the feeling of not understanding why Victoria was at this point in her life where her pain was so plain to see. By all accounts, she had looked beautiful and celebratory in her temperament but Enzo knew about the art of the façade.

For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of Victoria's heart: broken, scarred and her spirit seemed to curve under the emotional weight. He knew her to be a strong woman, and would tell anyone, but to truly understand the essence of Victoria Newman was to understand her flaws, her imperfections and the humanness to balance out the power and grace she carried within herself. Without that, anyone who got close to her would fail, and it seemed Billy had. He had a decade or so, multiple marriages he had of in passing, two children and still failed. His new find would be a good fit even though Valentina said it was an exercise in madness, but Enzo had no use for him personally, and maybe even the slightest bit of distaste. Then again, who was he to really judge a man's colossal mistakes from afar when Enzo would be sure to get a front row seat in an audience of many?

To be of power and wealth meant one had to tap into a well of strength and fortitude even though it was dry. To be a Mancini meant to conquer, and to be a Medici meant, quite literally, to make haste quickly. To be a Newman meant Victoria had to be a steady with allies – because friends were not an option – and ruthless with any and all enemies. When finally Victoria had quieted down and protested she was only resting her eyes, Enzo took a moment to brush a strand of her hair from her face and pressed a light kiss to the side of her head. He caught the familiar scent of jasmine and lavender, and busied himself with adjusting her blankets before he stole more small moments that were never his to have.

"Goodnight," he said, politely, even though it was technically night. "Sleep well, Victoria."

"Enzo?" her voice called softly, thick with both tears and much needed sleep she still, even stubbornly evaded. Crystal blue eyes stared at him in the warm lighting of the guest suite as she lay there, curled up under soft blankets on a queen-sized bed. "Mi spiace," she finally spoke, her eyes slowly broaching everything unspoken. Not yet. An apology for allowing 15 years of separation to linger. An apology for circumstances neither could control but caused a lot of pain nonetheless. An apology for the loss of his parents and how much she truly did love them. "I'm so sorry," Victoria repeated in English this time.

He sighed, his own blue eyes carrying a softness in them only she could bring to the fore. This woman would torment him and ultimately, kill him and Enzo found this both normal and maddening. It was torture to stay rooted to his spot, and not find himself enveloping her form with his arms and having her head rest against his chest. Instead, he fought against the impulse and offered her a wry smile.

"As am I."

—

He stepped out of the room, clicking off the light switch and closed the door without making a sound. Once in the hallway, he let go of the breath he had been holding in his chest.

Searching his pockets, Enzo found his phone and the screen illuminated in front of him. 1:26pm.

Enzo was never the kind of man to sleep when there was so much to be done. It was just something in his design. The way his circadian rhythm operated, and just naturally nocturnal but his body betrayed him. In his defence, he was already morning in Florence, already sunrise in Italy as the world woke up slowly with the first notes of church bells and the scent of brunch in the air. He would let Victoria get some rest, and maybe, just maybe, attempt to get some sleep himself.

If Valentina called him out on it, she was immediately terminated.

—

Enzo's house was stunning. Gorgeous.

The type of place that was home, but still the envy of others when hosting a lavish party or grand dinner. She never had the time to host people at her house anymore. While her home had the remnants of a 1950s fever dream, this place was alive with the air of a museum. She couldn't help but slow down and gaze at the artwork even though she had no idea where she was heading. Of course, it was nearly 5 in the morning and by now, Billy had to be awake by now. She nearly called him, but decided against it because maybe he really was asleep, and one of her friends would tell him she was okay with them. Girl Code wasn't told useless, but she wasn't about to tell a lie of omission stand between them when Billy had his own creative imagination to fill in the blanks. It was more courtesy than he deserved, but he needed to know. He wouldn't like it, and knew when once she pushed back, it would be another argument. Better to rip the Band-Aid off, she supposed.

Victoria had her coat on, hair pulled back into a high ponytail and just her natural makeup set. She hadn't looked the way she did leaving the house, but she was presentable even though she needed a hot shower and a change of clothes. Finally, Victoria find herself in the living room. Here, she felt a strange sense of home and warmth, of comfort even though it puzzled. She was mistaking the past for the present and seeing elements of Florence when she knew this was Genoa City.

Genoa City was her home, and she appreciated the few moments she came up for air and stole moments to gaze out at the entire skyline, having a glass of her tequila to commend herself on a good day and a job well done and steering the ship. The liquor would blaze a slow, fiery path down when she swallowed and even though, Victoria loved that for it reminded her that she hadn't died or faded away. Other times, she took the elevator to Top of the Tower and ventured out on the deck alone to think, to reflect, and to have a cigarette where no one could question it. On the rarest of occasions, Adam came here lost in his own mental minefield. It became a set of predictable interactions where he'd smoke in silence too. If they did talk, it was about their children. Parenthood was a safe topic when everything else would rub her the wrong way. One of them would finish up, say goodnight for the sake of courtesy because it was never genuine and leave without looking back. She had stopped caring when this happened because it was something their father had forced them into doing, and while she didn't like it, Victoria did not want to go through another round of Newman Olympics. It was exhausting, and if she had to blackmail this man any further than she already was, one of them was bound to go over the edge.

The living room had the breath of his ancestors, and a modernity that was clearly 2020. Her eye landed on a framed photo among the rest, and it made her recall the way Salvatore brought stories to life with exuberance and gusto. Even years after his passing, it brought a fond smile to Victoria's lips, and as she saw Francesca's still and always serene face, she couldn't help but want the woman's wisdom and company.

Enzo's living room was beautifully decorated and the colour scheme couldn't help but be appreciated by the inner artist kept dormant all this time. She supposed, Victoria thought as her face grew warm around the cheeks, Lorenzo Mancini always did know how to awaken things in her. She gripped her clutch tightly yet discreetly, willing herself to be rational now. Victoria had gotten much needed sleep and could say everything she planned. Nothing would be a surprise, and nothing would shake her. Not even Enzo when he had a frustrating habit of doing just that.

"There you are."

Victoria turned around to see him, heart quickening just the slightest bit in her chest. His hair was slightly disheveled, a five o'clock shadow on his face and his eyes twinkling yet slightly tired. His tie was gone, and he strode toward her in a white shirt and the pants he wore like night. If she didn't know better, Victoria would have he actually slept but forgot how. She looked him up and down and laughed, more at him than to herself.

"You… looked like you attempted to genuinely sleep and forgot how."

"Says the woman who still, to this day, probably prefer to work at night instead of sleep."

"In my defence," Victoria rebutted, playfully, forgetting how easily she fell into banter with him, "I sleep at least four hours a night at most, and don't know the concept of tired. I'm not even tired right now. In fact," Victoria lightly tossed her clutch on a chair, and pinned her ex with an inquisitive stare, "I'm so wide awake that you're going to tell me what you're doing in Genoa City. Billy told me you moved Mancini International here," she sighed, and softened a little. "Look, you were there when I needed you and I can't thank you enough. But I… I can't imagine of all the places, you'd chose here. The Midwest? It's so…obscure."

Enzo stared at her, paused and his face grew serious.

"It was easy. It's because it was so obscure. Why go where everyone else when I can go where there's fresh ground for innovation, opportunities to strengthen my international connections," Victoria listened, and couldn't help but stare. There was a passion there, a zest for life and business she related to completely. "I don't just want to be part of it, Victoria. I want to shake up the way things are done, and in the end, rule it."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Good luck with Newman in your way."

"I need to forget I ever slept because it's suddenly occurred to me…"

"…that you never do never do well with waking up?" Victoria finished, as if it was automatic and there was that familiar banter and rhythm. She had fallen back in love with the Italian language even though she never lost it. It was fluent and free flowing, going from conversational and informal to formal and polite depending on the mood and context of the situation. But Enzo brought it out of her, and she was able to speak it with him the most, knowing there was a quip on the tip of his tongue. "Enzo," she said, with a soft smile, shaking her head. It was still difficult to process that he was standing in front of her when she had lived her life, married, divorced, and had three children and grown in some ways. "I'm grateful you looked out for me, but a partnership between Newman Enterprises and Mancini International…isn't an option."

"You can see the future?"

"No, I can't," Victoria sighed, brushing the loose tendrils of hair away, lightly. "I mean, I didn't see myself getting as drunk as I did at my friend's engagement. I should have eaten something to soak up the alcohol, but I…didn't, and now, Billy must be sick with worry. Either that, or he's stewing and we'll fight… I don't know. I need to get to my children even though they aren't awake right now. I can't think of any corporate mergers right now."

"Give me end of business day. You'll have a proposal in your inbox by then."

"Sei inarrestabile, vero?"

_You're relentless, aren't you?_

His eyes sparkled, blue as the Arno touched by Florence's first light. He exhaled, and looked at her as if she had missed something crucial and needed to see it, understand it, and perhaps, get to understand it again. He glanced down and then as if accepting something in his own mind, looked her again and answered in his first language, the language she had adopted as her own, "Quando viene a voi? Sempre."

_When it comes to you? Always. _

Patience was never his strong suit, unless it benefited him in the long term. She recalled memories of Francesca slapping his hand away from her freshy made Schiacciata Florentina with a sharp yet loving rebuke. Victoria remembered how concentrated she was concentrated she was on getting the Papardelle al Cinghaile right, she nearly jumped when Enzo poked in the hip while stirring the sauce, a ragù sauce typically heavy but when paired with the pasta made for a satisfying dish. She turned around, glaring at him before slapping him lightly on the chest for scaring her to death. A harmless – well, on Enzo's part or he said – prank turned into the two of them stirring just so the pasta was not any softer than al dente and the sauce did not burn. Naturally, Victoria recalled how his hand enclosed over hers, the other one tracing a pattern on her hip as he pressed light kisses to her neck and she caught the natural scent of him underneath the cologne. It was suddenly overwhelming, the way her stomach churned and her heart raced. She folded her arms as if to shield herself from inevitably feeling the spark of a live wire that had reignited.

How was it possible for him to do that to her? How was it fair? Victoria knew Billy had his faults, his problems and she was not perfect no matter how hard she worked on the façade. Even with all her resentment, she knew for certain, she loved him and he her. Enzo was a complication and she found herself, dealing with her own anger and unable to pinpoint its origin.

"No," she said, finally, looking him in the eye. "You want to work with Newman, you've hired Billy. I'll make you a deal. Rescind your offer of employment where Billy is concerned, and I'll look at a hard copy of your partnership proposal. Just… don't hire him at Mancini International. It's a mess for everyone, and I don't need anyone messes."

Enzo strode over to her, and stroked the side of her face with the softness of one who cared for a great, precious treasure. His hand was warm against her face as against her every bone in her body, growing comfortable with a familiar touch even as his eyes darkened under the living room lights. He smiled down at her. "Do you know how much you torment me, Victoria? How much I want to feel alive instead of exist? But you know me. I want it all in business. I want success. I want even more money. I want more power than I can manage, and part of you wants that too. But the subject of us was never business."

Victoria removed his hand, and took a step back, cheeks flushing a deep colour of pink and fire in her eyes. "Us?" she questioned, blinking at him. She repeated incredulously, "Us?"

"We were already complicated, Victoria. Who I hire is moot. A business proposal is nothing compared to everything that encompasses Lorenzo and Victoria. Our story never stopped. All it did was take a very long pause," he raked a hand through his hair and before he reined himself in. "Us… I never forgot. I wouldn't been able to if I tried, and believe me, I did try."

She swallowed, unable to stop the tears that fell but in the battle between her heart and her head, her head won out. It had to because her heart was a mess. Her thought process was manageable. She could wake up, work, live, laugh without the emotional stuff to deal with. Her mind was a place of straight lines and well-defined boundaries, and as long as she stayed within those boundaries, Victoria could be safe. It was why Victoria knew her worst impulses existed, but never allowed herself to act on them. If she did, it would be the point of no return.

"Billy loves me. I love him. But here you are. You hire him for a job. You want to work with Newman. You're sweet with me, but frustrating beyond belief," she paced, almost ranting. She hates being this flustered. She hated being this furious and feeling this sense of going into a free fall. Victoria's life with Enzo was beautiful, magical and sometimes, she couldn't believe it had happened. In passing, Victoria was grateful for those t wo years, but other times, she wished it hadn't been as painful as it was. She stared at him, wiping her tears away. "I…. don't know what to make of this. None of it. So, make something clear for me."

"You know I would."

"What is your endgame? You always have one. I will look at this proposal of yours if you're just honest with me about that."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and shook his head.

"Can I just be a businessman and entrepreneur who just wants to take advantage what the American Midwest?"

Victoria glared at him, trying to gauge him but she was tired. She only had the capacity to deal with one complicated relationship at a time. She knew she'd going home to Billy, full of worry and questions she didn't want to answer at the moment. But for now, Victoria let it go and nodded, relenting. He really did look tired and with the business day already started in the other parts of the world.

"Okay. Yes. It's too early, so I'll welcome you to Genoa City," she said, and meant it.

Victoria was genuinely happy to know Enzo would be around. He was his own man, would form his social circles, but a small part of her anticipated the lonely days she experienced hurting less and less. Perhaps, it would be nice to bump into Enzo in town, or even in the hustle and bustle of corporate life. She still had questions, still did not know the way in which Lorenzo Mancini would disrupt Genoa City. Victoria, for now, decided that this chess game with a shared understanding left unchanged. Her queen would never fall in resignation across a chessboard only they knew how to play, but a draw.

Victoria could see the first a winter sunrise, the first brushstroke of a canvas she'd seen by herself. One of her art professors always said to look into nature for art because it was a rich environment. Everything from the way clouds obscured the sun in a dance of light and dark between it rested in the in-between, the way winter wind howled as it danced between the bare branches, or… the way Billy smiled, revealing his dimples and his eyes sparkled because whatever it was excited him so much. They weren't fighting. They weren't tense. There was a certain kind of whimsy grounded in art, just as it was reality-based. Reality did strike her and made her realize it was time to go. Victoria had been here for longer than she intended, and maybe worn out her welcome.

"Damnit," she cursed, also realizing that her car was sitting in the Grand Phoenix's parking lot. When she closed her eyes, she could picture it just as she had parked it off. She was sober.

Enzo's face was one of concern. "Is everything alright?"

She exhaled, rubbing a temple. Her headache was coming back.

"No. Not really. I left my car at the Grand Phoenix, and it's already sunrise. I have to go home and change, get breakfast, drop the kids off to school and rush over to work. Now this," she panicked, frantically rooting through her clutch until she found her phone until she scrolled her contacts. Nick would help her, and it gave her the opportunity to congratulate him on entering the mayoral campaign.

"Victoria—"

"Not now, Enzo."

"Victoria, I—"

"Listen to me!" he yelled over her, and stopped her hands from fidgeting. She stopped moving, and searching, flashes of the way JT would grab her just a little too forcefully trickling her. Therapy had helped her understand her domestic abuse and work through it. But the thing about being a survivor, her therapy told her, was that it was lifelong work and active attention to get back to whatever normalcy. Enzo wasn't JT. Not even close. Still, she didn't like it when anyone grabbed her like that. Enzo's grasp was different. It was like coming in contact with sheer electricity, and a million little current ran up and down every nerve. Either way, she didn't like it and told him so. He looked at his hand, thumb caressing her arm as if from memory and pulled his hand away from her and smiled her sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Victoria," he apologized. "I just wanted you to listen to me. Two minutes. Please?"

"A minute and a half."

"I don't even need that. I merely said that for the sake of politeness. However, in all seriousness, I was just going to tell you to open the door."

Victoria stared at him, blankly. "You… you want me to open the door? That's it? You know I'm in my rush and you want me to door a damn door, which is a lovely door from an artistic standpoint by the way, but are you joking?"

Enzo shook his head and his usual confidence and coolness returned.

"When have you known me to joke around, dolcezza? I don't," he answered, plainly. Victoria knew he didn't. When he was set on something, Enzo went after it with a laser kind of focus, and made things happen. He didn't always win and get his way, but there was something in him that could let himself surrender. Victoria found herself relating to it, and perhaps, admiring it all over it. It was one of the reasons she had fallen for him and did so hard, it caught her unaware. He softened, and took her hand as she made the short walk from the living room down the hall to the foyer and the chandelier above them. It seemed to glitter like stars. He let go over her hand. "Always. We're here. Open the door."

Victoria shook her head at him before pulling at the knob, and she gasped.

There was her car. Her black BMW hybrid, untouched and waiting for her to drive. All she had to do was walk over it, get in and drive around the stone fountain and up to gates that would open let her go. Her car was safe, and relief flooded through her making her see so warm.

A bitter cold blew as she closed the door but even that did not stop her from impulsively hugging him. She caught the scent of his natural rich and earthy musk and his signature cologne _Helmut Lang Cuiron_. She recalled the citrus notes and the spice undertones. Mandarin orange. Bergamot. Pink pepper. Ambrette all in the body. Victoria found herself burying her face in the familiar crook of his shoulder, again landing safety when she had fallen. She was ready to catch herself and fix it because that was what she did. Trust herself and no one else completely. Never again. But this was… This had made her life easier and this trivial gesture had touched her deeply.

Her blue eyes searched his when she separated from him, seeing the stranger she'd bumped into as an art student in search of nurturing this new love for art, being free from what it meant to be a Newman in this suffocating Genoa City bubble. Florence was a strange place, but a rabbit hole of art, history and new culture and experiences. Genoa City didn't have anything historically significant aside from the Native American remnants of the past as the small population fought to keep it in the present. What a tiring balance that was.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, and let go of him. "I really wasn't thinking when I did that."

"You weren't exactly aware of things last night. I thought it would make your life easier if I arranged for this beauty to be brought here. You are still stuck in your Type A manner of doing things, and for that," he took her hand, and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, "I am glad."

"I'm not _stuck_ in my Type A ways," Victoria answered, with a proud smile. "I make them work."

Victoria cleared her throat, and stuck out her hand, "As a show of good faith," she said, formally, but with a new sense of boldness in her that felt like both fire and ice – two opposite things that stayed in perfect balance as an accomplished businesswoman, settled in her power and how she wielded it, "I have decided to read your proposal and because… you are good at what you do."

Enzo took her outstretched hand and shook it.

"I'm glad you see that. I have no doubt it will be mutually beneficial on a professional basis."

"Of course," Victoria said, and let go off his hand. The warmth of his palm was still against hers. "Professional basis."

She thanked him once more for she had decided truly that her place was not here. Victoria's place was home. The two-story ivory house on Orchard Ave with the light blue couch stuffed with toys between the cushions. Her place was her kitchen, smelling of freshly brewed black coffee and the sound of her children's morning chatter – more Johnny's than Katie's anyway because they were siblings but quite literally night and day.

"I keep saying this, Enzo, but I genuinely can't thank you enough."

"No need," he said, immediately and waved it off. He was genuine about it, and wished her well. "I always have wished you well, you know. Billy reads like a smart man on paper, but I need to look the man in the eye. I will either shake his hand, or cut his throat."

Victoria felt the corner of her mouth turn up. Something about that dark humour hit her. It was so…him. A constant in a world of variables.

"Maybe Billy will surprise you."

"I'm above surprises."

She did not why, but she walked over and pressed a kiss to his cheek and thought she heard a surprised yet quiet draw of breath from him. Maybe she was flirting. Maybe she was still a tad hungover to have all of her reservedness return to her just yet. She drew back to hear just for him whisper, "Maybe not all of them."

He touched her face, brushing errant hairs away from her face and putting them behind her ear.

"Goodbye, Victoria."

"It's _see you later_, Enzo," she corrected, and smiled wryly at him. She found her lips echoing the words after their first kiss on her apartment's doorstep they had shared on their date. She meant them back then, and Victoria meant them now. "It's always 'see you later'."

Billy would be worried, she thought as she opened the door and stepped out of Enzo's mansion into the chill of that January morning. Although she had the feeling there would be questions, fighting, arguments that lasted longer than most wars, she did feel a certain kind of guilt for staying out all night without calling him. But she was sure she needed the space at the time. As she opened the door to her car, got in and started it, Victoria stared at the grand architecture of this place and knew this place would have new life injected into it when spring arrived.

She pulled out, turned her car and drove up the path up to iron and gold-detailed gates that had opened up to let her go out into the greater Genoa City world. Enzo's house was warm, comforting and a bubble to drown out all the noise. It felt like she had been able to have a kind of release that had nothing to do with drunken ramblings of a heartbroken woman who was tired of finding ways to hold on to something that should have effortless. Being with Billy was effortless. It had been on that beach in Jamaica and in that arcade when he had declared he'd discovered he loved a Newman and the world didn't collapse on itself.

Her home had returned to being a stable place, but she recalled last night. She had fought with Billy until there were words left unsaid wafting in the same air as that Father Knows Best theme song.

Nonetheless, Victoria turned onto the street and began the drive home while hoping her house had not became a pile of debris and ashes in the middle of the night.


End file.
